For In Dreams
by Senator of Sorcery
Summary: Harry never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. And then, dreams become reality as Harry meets Ginny.
1. Chapter 1 The Boy Who Dreamed

**Prologue**

**October, 31****st****, 1981**

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall gave Baby Harry Potter one more look, and Disapparated. Young Harry turned over in his sleep, and clutched the letter Professor Dumbledore had put there. The area was deserted.

Or, at least, it had been. In the time it took to blink, an old woman appeared at the end of Number Four's driveway. If Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had look eccentric in their robes, this woman looked like she had come out of a movie, or perhaps, a video game.

She was hunched over, and leaning heavily on a wooden stick that rose two feet over her head. The end was curved and carved, and resting on it was a crow, its yellow eyes fixed on the bundle on the doorstep. At the woman's side, a pure black wolf stood lean and strong. One of the woman's gnarled hands rested on the wolf's head, stroking its ears. The woman wore a long midnight blue colored robe, and her cloak was as black as night, but interwoven with the fabric were little specks of silver, shimmering and glimmering in the light of the moon. Her face was brown, and lined with her old age. Her hair was pure white, setting a dark contrast against the night. Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the bundle of blankets that held Baby Harry. She lifted her hand away from the wolf, and pulled from a pocket of her robes a wand, about fifteen inches long and made of black wood.

She walked, without even a limp, to the doorstep, and touched the tip of her wand to the scar on Baby Harry's forehead. She opened her mouth and her voice came out raspy and dark. She spoke in a tongue that had been long forgotten by man, each word resonating throughout the street, words of power. The wand tip glowed gold, the baby's scar glowed along with it, then the woman closed her lips, and the glow faded. She stepped back, touched a hand to the wolf's head, and as quickly as she appeared, she vanished.

Far away from Little Whinging, at a crooked house that could only be held up by magic, two adults slept soundly in their bed. At the end of the bed, in a hand carved wooden crib, a baby girl slept, with her red hair splayed against her pillow. Her tiny left hand was curled into a fist, and her right clutched the blanket that rested upon her.

The woman that had appeared and vanished by Number Four Privet Drive reappeared by the crib, with her wolf and crow still and silent at her side. She touched the tip of her wand to the baby girl's forehead, and whispered again in words long forgotten, but this time, the words were soft, to soft for the two adults to hear but enough to wake the baby girl in her crib.

The baby stared up at the woman in wonder and fear. The woman put away her wand, and, hesitantly, reached out and touched a finger to the baby girl's cheek.

"You will not hear his voice until the time is right," she said, her voice still raspy. "He will be dormant in your mind until you most desperately need him. Only when you turn inward to find solace will you hear him, and only when he does the same will he hear you."

The baby girl blinked her chocolate brown eyes. The woman withdrew her hand, and lay it back upon her wolf's head.

"Never let your dreams cease," the woman whispered. "Never let your imagination dry up; always believe in the last few untamed branches of magic. Always trust the wild ways, always know you are true, and not just because of what I have done this night. Look up to the stars and know you are not alone in this world, Ginevra Weasley."

The baby girl seemed to understand, even though this was impossible. She was but a few months of age, but she seemed to understand what this strange woman said. The baby blinked her eyes once more, and the woman and her crow and wolf were gone.

In the apple orchard behind the house, the crow on the woman's staff let out a mournful croon, and the wolf sat back on its haunches to look up to the moon and howled. The woman drew her wand once more, and pointed it into the sky. The moon's light shone down on her, and her image faded. The wolf and her crow stopped their noise, and the three vanished once more.

They were gone, and this time, they did not reappear.

* * *

**One: Harry**

**The Boy Who Dreamed  
**

_Ten years later (give or take a day)..._

Harry stumbled into the front hall, and ducked automatically as a soapy sponge flew over his head. Aunt Petunia screeched loudly in the kitchen, while his uncle roared back from the safety of the underside of the kitchen table. Harry dodged a wooden spoon, and slipped into his cupboard. Literally slipped. The floor was soaked in Murphy's' Oil Soap. Today had been Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's anniversary. A loud chiming joined the din in the kitchen. Correction: yesterday had been their anniversary. Harry sighed, and tugged his soapy shirt over his head. He didn't bother undressing the rest of the way, just plopped onto the cot that served as his bed.

_What happened?_

Harry smiled slightly as her voice drifted into his mind. _Uncle Vernon forgot their anniversary._

_Ouch, poor him._

_Poor me! I'll have to clean everything up in the morning._

_Yes, poor you. The world pities you. You are the most pitiable thing on God's green Earth. _She rolled her eyes.

Harry glared at the ceiling. She giggled, and said; _At least they aren't mad at you._

_Yeah. Let's hope they forget that I'm here like they did with Dudley._

_Where's he?_

_Upstairs playing his video games. What did you expect?_

_Dunno, maybe crying because his parents are fighting._

_Don't tell me _your _parents are fighting._

_No, but Mum's really upset._

_Why?_

_Fred and George hexed Percy so that his hair turned pink. _An image of a disgruntled boy with vivid pink hair flashed across his mind.

Harry laughed softly. _Maybe he ought to keep it that way. It looks good._

_Don't start. Percy's furious because Mum can't get it to go away, and he's leaving for school in a month._

_Don't remind me, _Harry groaned. The school year started soon, and he'd have to deal with the bullies again. At least this year, Dudley and most of his gang were going to a private school and he, Harry, would be going to the public school.

_Oh, come on, _her voice sang. _It won't be too horrible. Look on the bright side, Dudley won't be there._

_Yeah, big whoop._

_What have I said about being negative?_

_That it's like inviting a Dementor inside._

_Exactly. Be careful or it might suck out your soul._

_But Dementors aren't real._

_Yes they are. Daddy's had to interact with them, and they're worse than anything your uncle could do to you._

Harry sighed. The half bad, half crazy cool part about his imaginary friend was that she lived in a world of magic. With 'Dementors' and flying brooms and people who could turn into animals. But magic wasn't real, at least, not in his world.

_Magic is real!_

_Yeah, yeah, I know. _

_Don't tease me!_

_I'm not!_

_No, stop. I hate fighting with you._

A pleasant, warm feeling came over him, and he smiled. _You're right. Let's stop._

_Good. What shall we talk about now?_

_Sleep? _Harry suggested with a yawn. She giggled again. _Fine with me. Sweet dreams._

_Same to you. _Harry shut his eyes, and fell asleep.

* * *

Harry spent the next day cleaning up from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's fight. Aunt Petunia was furious with him because he didn't clean up during the fight. Harry tried to explain that anything that got within eight feet of her got skewered with kitchen utensils. She just sniffed, and made him scrub the floor.

While he was cleaning, Dudley played video games or watched TV while eating nonstop. Around noon, Aunt Petunia told Harry to make himself a sandwich and take it outside. Harry slapped together cheese, mustard, and bologna between the heels of a the last loaf of bread he'd made, and wandered out to the back yard with it on a paper towel. He ate in silence, watching his cousin eating lasagna through the dining room window. Harry glanced at his pathetic sandwich, sighed, and walked away. He came to rest in the side yard near his aunt's cherry tree. He finished his sandwich and leaned up against the tree to enjoy the last moments of his break. The sitting room window in front of him sat open, and Harry paused to listen to the TV playing. After a minute or two, the phone rang.

His aunt walked into the room, switched of the TV, and sat down on the couch. His aunt picked it up, said hello, and then gasped. Harry, feeling curious, crept closer to hear what she was saying.

"Yes, Vernon Dursley lives here." She paused, listening to the other person on the line. "He left his what?... And, where?" Aunt Petunia pressed a hand to her chest, and took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure he'll go back to get it." She winced, held the receiver away from her ear. Then she paled, and set her lips in a firm line. "Do me a favor, mister. Never call this number again." Aunt Petunia slammed the receiver down on the cradle, and hugged her self.

"That is it." She grabbed the phone again, and dialed.

Harry normally didn't listen to his aunt's phone chats, since she usually only called the neighbors or her friends from the local Ladies' Club. But as Aunt Petunia began speaking, Harry noticed that her tone wasn't one she used when talking to Mrs. Next Door. More like she was speaking to a person in a position of authority. She said something about schools and Dudley, then spoke her good-byes, and hung up. She sat there in silence for a moment, then stood, and left the room. Harry sat back, rest against the house, pondering the two calls.

"Harry! Get in here!"

Sighing, Harry stood, and rushed to answer his aunt's summons.

Aunt Petunia set him to work again, and finally, the kitchen was clean. There were no more marks on the table from his aunt's rubber spatula collection, and the hallway floor was no longer sticky with oil soap. By that time, his uncle had returned from work full of apologies with a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of Jack Daniel's finest. Harry, who was sore from the scrubbing, was setting the table and warily watching his aunt as Uncle Vernon dropped the bottle on the counter and handed the bouquet to Aunt Petunia. She hated lilies.

_Oooh, he's in trouble! _Said his friend in a sing-song voice.

_I'll say, _Harry thought. She snorted.

Aunt Petunia gave Vernon a tight-lipped smile, and set out a vase to hold the flowers. Harry glanced back at the whiskey bottle. Aunt Petunia didn't even bother hiding her displeasure at it. She glared at the bottle. Vernon pretended he didn't see his wife's glare, and placed the bottle on the table.

_I know my mother wouldn't blow up at my dad if he brought the wrong sort of flower, but whiskey?_ She said._What kind of man brings his wife whiskey?_

_An alcoholic? _he suggested.

_Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, I forgot, _She said hurriedly. _Just promise me you'll follow your cousin's example and scram when he starts to drink._

_I will._

_Good. Oh, Mum's calling me. Talk to you later!_

_Bye,_ Harry thought miserably as Uncle Vernon took his place at the table. Aunt Petunia gave him another tight-lipped smile and banged a platter bearing a roast chicken on the table. Uncle Vernon nodded, she sat down, and Dudley said, "I'm hungry. Let's eat."

"Oh, of course, sweetums," Aunt Petunia simpered. "Vernon, carve the chicken."

"Right," he said, and did as he was bid. Dinner was quiet; Harry ate quickly and cleared the table as soon as his aunt and cousin were done. While he was washing the dishes, Uncle Vernon opened the bottle of whiskey.

"Vernon," his aunt said in a low, dangerous voice. "Remember what the doctor said?"

"Yeah, right," he snorted, and stood. He went into the kitchen, pulled a shot glass from the cupboard, and poured two fingers worth of whiskey into the glass. Aunt Petunia stood up quickly, grabbed the flowers from the vase gracing the center of the table, and threw them into the waste bin. She crossed the room, and blocked the sitting room door. Uncle Vernon threw back his drink, and left the kitchen, heading for the sitting room. Dudley glanced over at Harry, still washing dishes, then at his mother standing in the doorway to the sitting room.

"Petunia, I need to watch the news."

"Give me the bottle, Vernon," she said.

"No! I can have a drink if I want," Vernon said. And he threw back anther shot of whisky.

"You've been drinking entirely too much, Vernon. You know who called me yesterday? Your boss! He wants to know why you're leaving work early all the time. And do you know who called this afternoon?" his aunt's voice rose shrilly. "The manager of a strip club downtown! He said you left your jacket! From now on, no bars, no clubs, no coming home late, no leaving work early, and no drinking!" She snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand, crossed the room, and dropped it in the waste bin too.

Slowly, Uncle Vernon turned towards her, a look of pure rage on his face. It took three strides for him to cross the room and stick his nose in Aunt Petunia's face. Harry, feeling suddenly scared for his aunt, set down his dish towel, and backed up in the direction of the knife block.

"You've overstepped your line, Petunia," he growled, his voice slurring dangerously. "You're job is to cook, clean, and raise my son. Not to regulate my drinking! I'll spend as much time as I want in bars, and clubs too, if I want! I do what I want, not what you want!" He grabbed the whiskey bottle out of the trash, and took a long swig.

"Think about what you're doing to our family! You're spending half your paycheck on beer and whiskey and who knows what else! With your spending habits, we won't be able to send Dudley to Smeltings!" Aunt Petunia screamed.

"Oh, piss off, woman. I already paid for it."

"What about feeding us? And him?" she jerked her thumb over at Harry. "Don't you think it would be a blot on your record if your family starves to feed your need for whiskey?"

"Honestly, you could do with a little less feeding. And Dudley won't starve, I'll make sure of that," Vernon snapped. "As for that runt, it would easier to dump him on the streets. Our financial worries would be cut in half without him!"

"I've told you before, that boy may be a pain, but he's not useless! He makes up for what we do for him. Besides, he's my sister's son, and no matter how freakish she was, I owe it to her to care for her son."

Harry was stunned. His aunt was defending him? And she'd done it before?

"Well, scream why don't you," uncle Vernon bellowed. "Let the whole world know, why don't you?"

"Vernon Dursley, I refuse to be treated this way anymore. Either you quit drinking, or I take my son and my nephew and we leave."

"Oh, putting that brat on the same level as Dudley, now are we?"

"I don't care how bothersome he is, he doesn't deserve to be with you! And don't change the subject!"

"You won't leave," Vernon laughed. "You're gonna stay right here and do as your told!"

Aunt Petunia glanced at Dudley. "Go up to your room, Dudley."

"Mummy, are we really leaving?"

"If your father doesn't mend his ways, yes."

"'If your father doesn't mend his ways,'" Vernon mocked her. "You're not going anywhere."

"Dudley, go." Dudley stood up, and scurried from the room.

"We are leaving. And I won't let you stop us.'"

She pushed past Uncle Vernon, and stomped out of the dinning room. A tiny glass angel on the china cabinet fell, and smashed.

Uncle Vernon glanced at the shattered remains of the cherub, and grumbled under his breath.

"Clean that up," he growled, and dropped into a dinning room chair.

Harry grabbed a broom and dust pan, and crossed the room, eyes on his uncle. Slowly, he stooped down, and swept it up.

"She won't leave."

Harry looked up.

His uncle was squinting at him, the whisky bottle sitting in his limp hand.

"She can threaten me all she wants, but she won't leave."

_Oh, yes she will._

_Will what?_

_Weren't you listening? Aunt Petunia's taking me and Dudley and leaving. We'll be gone by tomorrow. Uncle Vernon won't stop drinking for anything._

_Won't that be good? You'll be away from your uncle._

_Yeah, but where will we go? This is the only place we've ever been. Aunt Petunia doesn't have any real friends to take her in._

_Maybe an inn? Wait, what about her parents?_

Harry shook his head, and, keeping his eyes on Uncle Vernon, he crossed to the waste bin and hastily deposited the glass shards.

_She never talks about them. I think they're dead._

He could tell that his friend was thinking hard about this as he walked across the kitchen, opened the pantry door, and dropped the broom and pan on the floor. He then ran out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

_I wish there was some way I could help_, She said.

_Same here._

_I have to go now; Mum needs me to peel potato's for dinner. We're having roast beef and mashed potato's and parsnips. I'm not too fond of parsnips._

_I don't think anyone is._

She laughed. Vaguely, Harry heard a woman's voice, and the whistle of a water kettle.

Ignoring the noise on his imaginary friend's side of his mind, Harry shut the door to the dinning room and kitchen. Through the stained glass windows, he could see his uncle pouring himself more whiskey. Sighing, Harry stepped up to the door of his cupboard, but stopped suddenly.

"…remember that teensy little drinking problem he had?" his aunt's voice, coming from the living room. Slowly, Harry edged to the living room doorway. Aunt Petunia sat on the couch, the telephone receiver in one hand, a pen hovering over a pad of paper in the other.

"He's an alcoholic now." His aunt paused, listening to the other person on the line. "Yes, yes, you were right. Listen, I told him that I'm leaving him, I can't stand him anymore. Could I come stay with you for a while?" Pause. "Yes, with Dudley. And Harry." He heard a muffled shout, and saw Aunt Petunia wince. "Yes, I mean Lily's son…. He's fine... I wanted to tell you he was with us, but Vernon insisted I keep it quiet… No! I did not pretend he was my son. Horrible thing for you to suggest… Well, he's not very bright, nor very pretty. He's a strange boy; you can imagine Vernon's want to avoid discussing him, Lily being what she was… No, I can't say he looks much like her… Look, I'm not overly fond of the boy, and if you met him, you'd dislike him too!" Aunt Petunia winced again, and then, in a soft hiss, said, "My husband is spending all his money at bars and strip clubs, so at the moment I'd rather not discuss why I don't like Lily's son!" Aunt Petunia's eyes flashed, and she stood up, throwing the pencil and paper away. "Please?... Thank you, we'll be there as soon as possible. And, please, when we get there, don't mention Lily's school when we get there. I haven't told him about his, ah, heritage. Good-bye." She put the receiver down, and sank onto the couch, hanging her head in her hands.

"Tonight," she whispered, and stood back up. Harry scrambled up and hurried to his cupboard. But before he could get inside, his aunt exited the living room.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he answered quickly.

His aunt narrowed her eyes, and turned her eyes on the door to the kitchen. Harry looked too, and saw his uncle draining his glass.

"We're leaving now," she said softly. Aunt Petunia sighed, and turned to him. "Go in there and make sure he keeps drinking until he passes out. Be best if he didn't see us packing."

"Now?" Harry said, feeling like he should point out that his uncle didn't need help.

"Yes, boy, now go do as you're told!"

Harry opened the kitchen door, and darted in. Vernon didn't notice him. Slowly, Harry crept over to the liquor cabinet, and quickly opened the glass door, and then carefully withdrew a bottle of scotch. Harry turned around and found himself nose to nose with his uncle.

Gulping, Harry glanced down at the bottle in his hands.

"Oh, sho she shends her nepew to get my whishkey, does she?" Vernon growled.

"No, no, I was-" Harry stammered, racking his brain for excuses.

"Stealing from me, then?" Vernon hiccupped, and snatched the bottle away from him. He unscrewed the lid, and drank heavily. Air bubbles rose to the bottom of the bottle, as Vernon swallowed. He lowered the bottle, and looked down on Harry, his eyes bloodshot and face ruddy.

"You know, I regret taking you in more and more every day," he slurred. "Fact, I'd blame you for my incresh… incrash… loads of drinking."

"Do you?" Harry squeaked.

"Oh, yeah," his uncle burped, and Harry coughed as the torrid smell of whiskey mixed with the leftovers from his uncle's last dozens meals washed over him. His uncle laughed at him, and stumbled back to the dinning room table, and sank into his chair.

"You're the strangest thing I ever met, you are," he rumbled.

"You think?" Harry said with raised eyebrows.

Vernon took another swig of the scotch, and stared at him, cross-eyed. "I wouldn't have married that woman had I known 'bout her good fer nothin' sithter."

"You mean my mother?"

"Yeah, her. She a crazy bitch, I heard."

Harry felt anger rise in him. He wasn't exactly sure what 'bitch' meant, whenever Dudley said it, Aunt Petunia shushed him, and Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, always referred to her female dogs as 'bitches.'

"She wasn't."

His uncle cocked his head.

"Wadn't what?"

"A- a bitch."

Vernon laughed deeply, and swigged at his scotch. "You don't even know what it mean, do ya?"

"No, but I know my mother was not one."

He laughed again, and set the bottle on the table. "Doesn't matter now. She dead as a doorknob. Gone and blown up."

"Blown up?"

"Argh, blown up. Mad girl, she was. Funny thing, she was, and that husband o' hers."

"But you said my parents died in a car crash."

"Argh."

"But my mother blew up?"

"Don't ask questions," Vernon snapped. "Best you don't know."

"Know what? What are you hiding from me?"

"You don't need to know!" Vernon roared.

"Tell me!" Harry yelled back, advanced on him. The kitchen door burst open, and Aunt Petunia ran in.

"Harry Potter, calm yourself!" she gasped. "You'll wake up the whole neighborhood."

"But- but he won't tell me about it!"

"About what?" Petunia turned to her husband, glaring at him in disgust.

"Blew up, she did," he growled. "Not my fault. She had it coming." His uncle's eyelids drooped as he took another gulp of the scotch.

Petunia's face paled; she grabbed Harry's elbow, and dragged him through the door into the front hall. She slammed the kitchen door shut. One of the stained glass panels cracked.

"Your uncle doesn't know what he's talking about," she said in a hushed voice.

"He was talking about my mother!"

"She didn't exactly blow up."

"Then what happened?"

"I've told you before, she and your father died in a car crash."

"Then-"

"The gas tank exploded. That's what your uncle was talking about. Here, take this," she shoved a ratty rucksack into my arms, "pack your things."

"But-"

"Don't ask questions!" she snapped, and stomped away, upstairs. Harry sighed, and opened his cupboard door. The packing went quickly, and, after retrieving the last few socks from under his bed, he latched the flap of the bag shut, and left his cupboard. Dropping it at the foot of the stairs, he climbed them dejectedly, and went into his aunt's room. She stood by the window, staring down at something in her hands.

Harry stepped forward, glancing at the suitcase on the bed. It was full of neatly folded clothes. He glanced back at his aunt. She hadn't notice him. Harry turned to the dresser, and checked the drawers. They were empty. He went to the closet, and started to remove his aunt dresses. He laid the first load out on the bed, so his aunt could select the ones she wanted to keep.

"Aunt Petunia?"

"What?" she turned around, hiding whatever it was behind her back.

"Where's your hanging bag?"

"My- oh, on the closet shelf."

Harry nodded, and fetched the bag. He put in the dresses and skirt suits he knew his aunt liked best, while Petunia finished with the suitcase. After a while, Dudley wandered in to report he had packed his favorite toys and all his clothes. Aunt Petunia then stunned both Harry and Dudley by telling her son that he had to leave his toys behind. Dudley whined and cried, but Aunt Petunia was firm. Eventually, Dudley, grumbling under his breath, agreed and went to put the toys back. After that, Aunt Petunia called a taxi company, and arranged for transport to London.

Finally, Aunt Petunia was ready to leave. Both Dudley and Harry pitched in to carry her bags downstairs, Dudley taking her purse and Harry taking the suitcase and hanging bag. The clock read 9:58. Aunt Petunia wrote Uncle Vernon a note, and she taped it to the kitchen door. Uncle Vernon was slumped over on the table. Dudley waved half-heartedly at him as he left the house. Harry grabbed his rucksack, and carted it along with his aunt's bags out to the driveway. The taxi pulled up, and Harry loaded the bags into the trunk, and tossed his aunt's purse in the front seat. Then, the front door burst open.

Uncle Vernon strode across the front lawn. Aunt Petunia shielded Dudley behind her. Harry had a brief vision of a red haired woman doing the same thing in front of him.

"Where are you going?" Uncle Vernon growled. Aunt Petunia clenched her jaw.

"I told you, I'm leaving. I've had enough of your drinking and faithlessness. I'm taking these two with me."

"And I told you," Vernon stuck his ruddy purple face in hers, "I won't let you go."

"If you touch me, or my son," Aunt Petunia squeaked, "You'll be arrested!"

Vernon grabbed her arm. The taxi driver honked his horn. Harry rushed forward and Dudley gasped.

"You're not going anywhere," Vernon sneered. "Dudley, get in the house."

Dudley whimpered, shrinking against the taxi.

"I told you to get in the house!" Vernon snapped.

"Get in the taxi," Petunia said.

"Ignore her!"

"Dudley, get in the car."

Dudley opened the car door, and climbed in. Vernon glared at his wife.

"You dare defy me?"

"I'm keeping my son safe."

Harry felt a twinge of sadness. What about his safety?

"It's your safety you should be worried about," Vernon hissed, and he slugged her in the gut. Aunt Petunia fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Harry yelled "Stop!" Lights turned on along the street. Vernon kicked Aunt Petunia, she collapsed with a grunt, and he turned on Harry. Harry backed away, into the road.

"This is your fault," Vernon growled. "If you weren't such a nuisance-"

"Don't blame me, I didn't make you drink!" Harry said quickly.

"Argh, but you were the reason. We should have left you on the street, you filthy thing."

Harry felt anger boil up inside him.

"Sometimes I wish you did!" Harry snapped.

"You drove her away from me!"

"You did it on your own!"

Vernon lunged at him, hands outstretched; his bloodshot eyes alight with fury. Harry reacted instinctively: He held his hands out in front of him, and shut his eyes. There was a flash of golden light, and Harry peeked through his lashes. His uncle sat on his rump on the pavement. There was a shimmery substance between Harry and his uncle.

Confused, Harry lowered his arms, and stared at his dazed uncle.

"Harry, get in the car!" his aunt snapped. Harry shook his head, and the shimmering wall vanished.

"Now!"

Harry did as he was told, and climbed into the taxi. His aunt took the front seat.

"What the hell just happened there?" the taxi driver asked.

"Just take us to King's Cross Station, in London," Petunia snapped. "Quickly!"

The driver floored the accelerator, and in no time at all, they were rolling down the highway to London.


	2. Chapter 2 Strange Things

**Two: Strange Things**

**Harry**

**The taxi pulled up outside the train station shortly before midnight.** Aunt Petunia took them in, put their bags on a trolley, and stopped at a ticket booth. She conversed with the man on duty for a while, and then purchased three tickets to Ottery St. Catchpole, a small town, she said, in Devon. She did not explain her reason for choosing this destination. Harry shouldered his and Dudley's rucksacks, while Aunt Petunia gave Dudley the task of dragging her suitcase. She draped the strap to the small hanging bag from her shoulders with her purse, grunting as she did so.

"Our train leaves at 5:30," she said in a tired voice. "We'll stay in an inn tonight." She led them out of King's Cross. Standing on the curb outside, Harry felt very awake, even exhilarated. The rush of the cars speeding past, the chatter from the many pubs and taverns, even the neon signs and street lamps lighting the road, all gave him so much to look at.

"Take my hand," Aunt Petunia said. Dudley took it eagerly, looking around in fear. Harry kept his hands to himself, assuming his aunt meant Dudley.

"Harry, I said take my hand," his aunt snapped. Harry blinked, stunned.

"Why?"

"Because I said so!" she said, grabbing his hand. "Come on. And don't let go." Aunt Petunia pulled them down the streets, her grip on their hands tight. Harry glanced at Dudley, who looked just as confused as Harry felt. His aunt never showed any positive feelings for him, let alone care. And twice that day, she'd shown protectiveness of him.

_Guess there's a first time for everything. _

_Hey, why are you still awake? _His friend said in a groggy voice.

_We have to find an inn first._

_What? _

Quickly, Harry explained to her what had happened, from the funny phone calls to his aunt's sudden need to protect him. He left out the bit about his mother, and the strange shield thing he'd conjured.

_Wow, _She said. _Just, wow. And you're headed for Ottery St. Catchpole? _Her voice sounded excited, but also confused. In his mind's eye, he imagined her standing in front of a mirror, frowning at her reflection.

_Yeah. I think the person my aunt was talking to after dinner lives there. Either that or they're meeting us there. _

_I hope it's the former._

_Why?_

_Because I live in Ottery St. Catchpole!_

_What? You're kidding!_

_No! Well, not really in the town, near it, but in the area. Maybe… _She trailed off, and he imagined her frowning harder. Outside his mind, his aunt stopped at the edge of the curb, waiting to cross the street. Ahead, Harry could see a sign advertising Bailey's Inn & Tavern. He guessed that was where his aunt was taking them.

_Maybe what?_

_Nothing, it doesn't matter._

_Yes it does. _Harry focused on her voice, and strained to read her mind. He saw a thought floating in her mind.

_Maybe I could visit you? _He said. In the real world, Aunt Petunia led them across the street, she paused, and let go of his hand. Startled, Harry glanced at her. Then she put her arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close. She did the same to Dudley, whispering to him to stay close to her. Harry glanced around, and saw why. Ahead of them, a group of raucous men and women stood outside a pub, laughing and drinking from mugs of beer. They quickly noticed Harry, and his aunt and cousin, and shouted to them. A few of the women threw back their heads' and laughed, but one or two of the group hushed them. One girl in particular, holding a tray and wearing an apron, yelled "SHUT IT!" The group fell silent, except for a few whispers, and giggles. The woman, Harry assumed she was the waitress, stepped toward them.

"Can I help you?" she said. Harry noticed that she had bright orange hair, pulled into two loose braids. The strands of hair escaping from her braids were frizzy, and Harry guessed that if she hadn't contained the rest of her hair, it'd look like she had a habit of sticking her fingers in electrical outlets.

"No, thank you," Aunt Petunia said, her voice clipped. She tightened her grip on Harry and Dudley. The waitress glanced at Dudley, and then her eyes fell on Harry. She glanced up at his forehead, and a look of surprise, almost awe crossed her face.

"These two yours?"

"I don't believe that is any of your business," Aunt Petunia snapped. The waitress held up a hand.

"I don't wanna be nosy, miss, but you might wanna head back the way you came with those two. Bit young for this neighborhood."

"I realize that."

The waitress' eyes narrowed. "Where's your husband?"

"Again, not your business."

"You headed for Bailey's?"

"As a matter of fact, we are."

"Best cross the street. Aim for Mrs. Honeycomb's B and B. She's a hell of a lot simpler, and what with the kids, Bailey's might not be the best."

"We'll only be staying the night."

"Bailey's get a lot of people like you, and a lot of them regret goin' there."

"Why?"

"The place is over-rated. The cheapest room is practically a closet."

"Had lots of experience with those," Harry muttered. The waitress glanced at him, then back at Aunt Petunia.

"Not only that but it sees a lot of one nighters, if you know what I mean. And the walls are pretty thin. With a bit of rotten luck, you'll end up right next to one. You really want those two to overhear that?"

Aunt Petunia stiffened. Then she glanced across the street. Harry did too, following her gaze to a quaint looking three story building. The sign said Honeycomb Bed & Breakfast.

"What's the charge for one night at the B and B?"

"Pretty cheap, considering the quality. I live there meself. Mrs. Honeycomb is sweet as can be, and she doesn't allow one nighters of that kind if she can help it."

"Mum, what's a one nighter?"

"Never mind that, pumpkin," she said quickly. Harry opened his mouth, but Aunt Petunia shushed him.

"Thank you, miss," Aunt Petunia said. "We're very grateful."

"No problem," she said. Her eyes fell on Harry.

"How old are they?"

"What?"

"How old are they?" the waitress repeated. Behind her, one of the men shouted for another pint. She waved him off, her eyes returning to Aunt Petunia.

"Eleven, and ten," Aunt Petunia said.

"Which one's older?"

"Me," Dudley said. He grinned.

"Oh, yeah?" the waitress smiled at him. "You hungry?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Wait here a minute, then." The waitress said, and then, smiling kindly at Harry, she hurried into the pub. Aunt Petunia hesitated, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

A minute later, the waitress returned, pushing through the crowd. She wasn't wearing her apron anymore, and was holding a plastic bag in one hand.

"I'll take you over to Mrs. Honeycomb's," she said. Aunt Petunia opened her mouth, but the lady shook her head.

"It's no trouble and my shifts over, anyway," she said, "follow me."

She crossed the street. Harry followed her, and Aunt Petunia followed him. On the other side, the lady led the way to the quaint Bed and Breakfast.

"By the way, I'm Anna," she said as she opened the door to the inn.

"I'm Harry," Harry said. "This is Aunt Petunia, and Dudley."

"It's very nice to meet you," she said, smiling again. Her eyes rested on Harry again. Then she ushered them into the inn.

The parlor before them was very cozy, and warm. Chintz armchairs and matching little couches sat in front of a heart. A crackling fire burned in the grate, and a round rug lined the ground. A desk and a straight backed chair sat on Harry's left. Ahead, a hallway led to the back, and a staircase led to the upper floors Anna smiled at the room.

"Best inn in London," she said. "Have a seat, I'll fetch Mrs. Honeycomb." She dropped the bag on the desk, and headed up the stairs. Dudley slipped out from under Aunt Petunia's arm let the suitcase fall to the ground, and flopped onto a couch. Harry followed his cousin, flinging the two heavy rucksacks by the suitcase, and dropped into an armchair. The cushions were soft, and warm from the fire. He felt tired instantly, and curled up in the chair, ready to fall asleep right then and there. Then, he suddenly felt a warm breeze on the back of his neck. He glanced around, feeling a sense of familiarity, like he'd been there before.

_Hey!_

_What?_

_You gonna answer me?_

_Oh. Answer what?_

_Are you going to visit me?_

Harry felt his insides twist, and knot together. Visit her? How?

"Welcome!" Harry sat up, and glanced over to the staircase. An plump woman with graying brown hair and dressed in a faded flowery dressing gown stepped forward, smiling broadly at them. Anna stood right behind her, smiling satisfactorily. The plump woman's eyes landed on him, and then traveled upward, onto his forehead. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, and reached a hand up to push his fringe over his scar.

"Ooh, you poor dears," the old lady simpered, stepping forward and grabbing Harry's hand. "You're cold as ice. Come, come, you two," she gestured for Harry and Dudley to get up; "you ought to be sound asleep."

"Uh, Mrs. Honeycomb?"

"Yes, dear?"

"We'd like to stay here tonight; do you have a room for us?"

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "Just write your name on the slip of paper there, dear, and I'll show you to your room."

"Shouldn't I pay first?"

"Oh, my guest's always pay in the morning, dear," Mrs. Honeycomb said. She crossed to the desk and handed Aunt Petunia a pen. "Cash or check, though dear, when you do pay."

"Well, we'll be leaving early tomorrow, so would you mind if I paid now?"

"Oh, you go right ahead, love."

Aunt Petunia nodded, and pulled her checkbook out of her purse. "How much?"

"Depends, do you want separate rooms?"

"Ah, well, maybe, how much is one room?"

"Forty pounds."

Aunt Petunia raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. "Two rooms then," she said, turning back to her checkbook. She signed it quickly, and handed it to Mrs. Honeycomb. Mrs. Honeycomb smiled, said thank you, and then tucked the check into her pocket. She pulled a ring of keys from a drawer in the desk, and crossed to the staircase. Harry followed her, grabbing his and Dudley's bags as he went, with Dudley and Aunt Petunia following him with the rest of the luggage. Anna trailed behind them, holding her plastic bag.

Mrs. Honeycomb stopped at the second floor, and turned down a hallway. Harry looked around, surprised. He expected to see electric lights lining the walls but instead, he saw old fashioned gas lamps, hanging from hooks in the walls. He even saw lanterns with candles. There were no electric outlets in the walls, either. It looked like what Harry expected a 19th century inn to look like. Except he could still hear the rush of cars and the shouting of drunks through an open window.

Mrs. Honeycomb stopped halfway down the hall, and riffled through her ring of keys. Harry strained his neck, looking at the keys. They were the old fashioned type, big and rusty brass. What were they called? Bone keys?

_Skeleton keys… _her voice came to him soft, and full of surprise.

_What are skeleton keys, again?_

_Those, nitwit; I use skeleton keys in my house, and so do most Wizarding families, if they don't use magic._

_Right. Why doesn't she use regular keys?_

_Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast… _She said, ignoring his question._I think I've stayed there once. Yeah, I have. Mum took me to London for my ninth birthday, and we stayed in Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast, because the Leaky Cauldron was all filled up._

_All right, so four creepy things have happened today; what's next?_

"Here you are, dears," Mrs. Honeycomb said, unlocking the door. She stepped inside, and light poured from the room. "I assume the boys will stay here?"

Aunt Petunia glanced into the room. Harry did too; and again was surprised at the lack of electric items. There were two gas lamps, one sitting on a table between two twin beds, and one on a dresser. Also on the dresser, sat a ceramic bowl, patterned with faded blue flowers, and matching pitcher. The floor was hardwood, like the floors in the rest of the inn. Aunt Petunia dropped her hanging bag on the floor by one of the beds.

"Dudley and I will stay here," she said. "Harry can stay in the other room."

Mrs. Honeycomb frowned, but didn't say anything. Harry disentangled Dudley's bag from his, and dropped it on the floor.

"Well, here's the key," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "Bathroom's three doors down on the left, I'm upstairs, and Anna's right next door. Yell if you need me." Mrs. Honeycomb shut the door, and shook her head.

"It's a crying shame she's leaving you all by your lonesome, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Honeycomb said, turning to the other wall. Harry froze, stunned, while Mrs. Honeycomb fumbled with her keys.

"You think you'll be all right by yourself, Harry?" Anna asked. Her eyes were wide, and full of something… concern? Harry was further shocked.

"There you go, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Honeycomb said, unlocking the door. Then, she pulled something from her dressing gown pocket, a long thin stick. She brandished it at the room, and the lights came on. Harry's jaw fell open.

"How- how…" he stammered.

"It's a simple charm, Mr. Potter. You'll probably learn it at Hogwarts this year."

"Oh, next term, I'm sure," Anna said, "they learn mostly theory first term."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my cousin Molly's children are students there, and none of them learned household charms until the second term of their first year."

Harry shut his mouth, feeling rather stupid.

"Er, excuse me?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What- er, how- first, how do you know my name?"

"Well, everyone knows your name, Mr. Potter. You're the Boy Who Lived," Mrs. Honeycomb said.

"I'm- I'm what?"

"Oh, my!" Anna clapped her hands to her mouth. Slowly, she lowered them. "I don't think he knows!"

"Knows what?"

"Dear, how did you get that cut on your forehead?" Mrs. Honeycomb asked.

"In the car crash, when my parents died."

"You're name is Harry Potter, right?" Anna said, holding the plastic bag closer to her chest.

"Yes."

"And what were your parents' names?"

"James and Lily," Harry said, glancing between the elderly inn keeper and the waitress.

"It's definitely him," Mrs. Honeycomb said.

"Then why-" Anna stopped mid sentence. In creepy unison, Mrs. Honeycomb and Anna both turned towards the door to Aunt Petunia and Dudley's room.

"That's why," they said.

"What's why?"

"You haven't got your Hogwarts letter, then?" Anna asked.

"My- my what?"

"She's hidden it from him, I bet," Anna said.

"Or she doesn't know."

"That lady-"

"Aunt Petunia?"

"Yeah, her. Is she really your aunt?"

"Yes," Harry was thoroughly confused now. What were they talking about?

"On your father's side?"

"No, my mother's side."

"She'll have to know then. Obviously, she hid it from him," Mrs. Honeycomb said.

"Hid what from me?"

"Well, maybe she didn't tell him for a reason," Anna suggested.

"Maybe. A thing like that could really mess with a child."

"A thing like what?" Harry asked.

"Should we tell him, Mrs. H?"

"I don't think so, Anna," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "We'll leave it be."

With that, Mrs. Honeycomb handed Harry the key to his room, and walked away.

"Miss Anna?"

"Yes?"

"What's Hogwarts?"

"Oh, dear," Anna rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, it's a school."

"Oh. I've never heard of it."

"It's a private school. In Scotland, I think."

"Why would I have a letter from them?"

"Well, er, it's complicated, Harry. Best put it out of your mind." Anna looked down at the bag in her hands. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She handed him the bag. "Homemade pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, some sugar quills, and a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. Be careful with the beans, some of them are right nasty." Anna then turned on her heel, unlocked the door next to Aunt Petunia's, and stepped inside, shutting the door.

Harry looked down at the bag in his hands, then at Anna's door. Shaking his head, Harry entered his room, and shut his door. The room was smaller than the one his aunt and cousin occupied, but just as cozy. There was a bed bearing a patchwork quilt, a night stand with a gas lamp, a dresser with two bowls and pitcher and another lamp, this time burning a candle, a full length mirror by the dresser, and a hearth.

Harry stepped towards the hearth. Like the one downstairs, it was lit. The fire set the walls dancing in its glow. On the mantel, two pretty glass jars sat. One of potpourri, the other one full of a grayish green powder that he couldn't recognize. A miniature grandfather clock sat between the two jars. The hands read 1:24. Harry turned to the bed. The thing was honestly enormous. Bigger than his aunt and uncle's bed, back in Little Whinging. He assumed this one to be a king size bed, because his aunt's was a queen. Harry dropped his rucksack and the plastic bag onto it, and ran a hand over the quilt. It was soft in some places, rough in others. He liked it.

Harry pulled back the covers, and felt the sheets. They were soft, and fuzzy. Flannel. Harry grinned. Tonight might just be the best night of his life.

Eager to get to sleep, Harry pulled his pajamas from his bag, and pulled off his shirt. Harry rubbed his hands over his bare arms. They were filthy from all his work. He raised an arm, and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He dropped his shirt on the floor, and glanced around. His eyes fell on the bowl and pitcher. A rag and a bar of soap sat there. Stepping forward, Harry peered into the bowls. One was full of clean, clear water. The other was empty. Harry picked up the rag, and dipped it into the water. Surprisingly, it was warm. Harry shrugged, and dropped the soap into the bowl. Quickly, he washed his upper body, and once he was finished there, he rid himself of the rest of his dirty clothes, and washed the rest of him. His feet stank, but were mostly clean.

Along the way, Harry figured out that the second bowl was for dirty water. He squeezed out the rag over it, and then dipped it back in the clean water. Eventually, he was clean, and he dressed himself in clean underwear and his pajamas. Just then, the clock chimed out 2 o'clock. Harry felt very tired by this time, and he slipped into the bed. The blankets were warm, and the mattress was soft. His head hit the pillows, and he closed his eyes.

_Oi!_

_What? _Harry said sleepily.

_We need to talk about this. Right?_

_No. And honestly, I just want to fall asleep._

_Hey! Listen to me!_

Harry felt very annoyed at her insistence, but rubbed his eyes and focused.

_So… what are we talking about?_

_You are an absolute idiot. _

_Okay, _Harry yawned.

_We're talking about what's happening!_

_What's happening? _

_I- I don't know._

_So why are you keeping me awake?_

_You're not hearing me! Something mad is going on._

_Yeah, Aunt Petunia carted me and Dudley of to London in the middle of the night, _Harry grumbled.

_And she's taking you to my hometown._

_Can we deal with this in the morning? Please?_

_You'll have to visit me. _

_How?_

_I have no clue._

_Good night._

_Hey!_

Harry ignored her. She kept on babbling about Ottery St. Catchpole and him visiting her, but Harry had already fallen asleep.


	3. Chapter 3 Ginny's Day Out

**Three: Ginny's Day Out**

**Ginny**

**The next morning dawned warm and bright.** Ginny rolled over in her bed, blocking the light spilling in from her window. She was tired, and her mind felt worked beyond belief from her night's dream. She'd dreamt that her imaginary friend was coming to visit her. She'd seen snippets of London in her dream, eavesdropped on some of his conversations, and even thought she'd seen Cousin Anna Prewett.

Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. She yawned and stretched, and turned to look at her clock. It was a cuckoo clock, and sat on her desk. The hands read 8:22.

_Hello?_

Ginny smiled as the voice of her imaginary friend floated into her head.

_Hi. Thanks for waiting for me to wake up._

_No problem. I happen to be a good person who appreciates sleep. Unlike someone else I could mention._

_Sorry._

_Apology accepted. I'm on the train._

_Oh, yeah! When will you be here?_

_Aunt Petunia said since we left at seven o'clock-_

_I thought it left at five thirty?_

_It was late._

_Oh. Continue._

_Anyway, we left at seven so we should be there about eleven o'clock._

_I think Mum is taking me into the village this afternoon. We're celebrating._

_Celebrating what?_

_I got my Hogwarts letter yesterday! Dad took Ron out already, but Mum wanted to have a girl's afternoon. _

_Good for you, _He said. For some reason, he sounded a little confused to her. _Ah, did Ron happen to look horrified when he came back?_

_I- I didn't notice. Why?_

_Just a thought. Be prepared for the _Talk_._

_What talk?_

_The _Talk_._

_You're making no sense._

_You know, where babies come from and all._

_Oh, yuck!_

_Yeah, that _Talk_._

_Changing the subject. Keep me posted on your progress. I want every little detail._

_Okay. Dudley just puked._

_Eww!_

_You want more details on that?_

_No, I meant- forget it._

_Don't worry, I'll let you know everything that happens._

_Keep it G rated, please._

_Says the girl who knows more swear words than even my uncle does._

_I'm sure he has plenty hidden up his sleeve that I don't know._

_Oh, of course._

"Ginny!"

Ginny jumped out of bed, crossed her room to the door, opened it, and stuck her head out.

"Yes?"

"Ginny, love, get ready to leave! We're going to the village in about half an hour!" her mother called.

Ginny's heart leapt. "Yes, Mum!"

She ducked back inside her room, and shut the door. She stepped over to her closet, and started going through it. She pushed aside old Sunday dresses that no longer fit and fancy clothes her grandmother had made that she had never worn, searching for what to wear. Usually, jeans and a tee shirt would have been fine, and preferable, but today, Ginny felt like dressing up. Near the back of her closet, she stopped. She cocked her head, and then pulled out the dress. It was a creamy white, one of the ones her older cousins gave her. She held it up against her, turning to her mirror. She studied it, wondering whether or not she was willing to wear it. It was really a pretty dress and simple too. The fabric was lacy but not fancy. The hem reached her knees easily. The sleeves would stop just above her elbow.

Ginny shook her head, and put it back. She riffled through the closet some more, pausing at some of the more plain dresses. A green wrap around patterned with orange flowers. A peachy pink Sunday dress that probably would be too small. A dark blue dress with a sailor collar. Another lacy dress, this time a light brown. A baby blue skirt with a matching sweater. Ginny stopped, and pulled out the skirt and sweater. The skirt was made of a soft fleecy fabric, one of those skirts that made you want to twirl around and watch it flare. The sweater was too, but was decorated with little plastic jewels. Ginny put the sweater back. But she laid the skirt out on her bed, and turned to her dresser. She pulled a plain white tee shirt from a drawer, and clean underclothes from another. She quickly dressed, and then started searching for some shoes. Finally, she dropped to the ground and dug a pair of white sandals from underneath her bed. Ginny slipped them on, stepped in front of her mirror, and examined herself. She looked girlish, and Ginny liked it.

She grabbed a hair clip from off her dresser, twisted her hair up into a knot and fastened it with the clip. She pulled a pair of jean shorts from a drawer, and pulled them on underneath her skirt, just in case she decided the skirt was getting to be too much.

"Ginny, darling, almost time to go!"

"Coming Mum!"

She left her room, and took the stairs two at a time. Mum waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, don't you look lovely!" Mum said, grinning. "Spin for me, precious."

Ginny giggled, and did a lopsided pirouette. Mum laughed, and took her hands before she fell over.

"We're going to have a wonderful time, my pet!" Mum told her, smiling warmly.

"Mum, guess what," Ginny said.

"What?"

"Guess!" Ginny said, giggling.

Her mother smiled and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You found a unicorn?"

Ginny laughed, but shook her head.

"Ooh!" Mum snapped her fingers and grinned. "I've got it! Harry Potter's coming to visit!"

Ginny blushed scarlet. "No, Mum, but somebody is coming to visit."

"Who?"

"My friend, the one I told you about."

Mum's smile faltered for a second. "Your imaginary friend?"

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "Mum, he's real! And he's coming here!"

Mum sighed, and smiled wearily. "If you say so, Ginny," she said, leaving Ginny very unsatisfied, and then she turned back to the stairs. "BOYS!" she yelled. Bangs and shouts came from the upper floors of the Burrow, and soon, every single one of brothers bounded down the stairs, and lined up for their mother, in varying forms of disarray and wakefulness or lack of. Her twin, Ron, in particular looked like he'd been dragged from bed, and from the way he was glaring at Fred and George, he probably had been

"All right, listen up," Mum said. "Ginny and I are going out for the day. While we're gone, I want you all to clean your rooms."

Collective groans issued from her brothers, except Percy. He was already dressed with his hair combed (though still bright pink), glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose, and his brand new prefect badge pinned to his polo. Obviously, his room was already clean.

"No buts!" Mum said. "Ginny and I will be back around two o'clock this afternoon, I'm guessing. When we get back, I want to see clean rooms, and clean boys. It's all right if you're not done when we get back, but that doesn't mean you can slack off, you hear me?"

The boys nodded, Fred and George saluted playfully, and Percy said in a somber voice "Yes, Mother."

"Good. Bill's in charge. If you finish your room before I get back, help one of your brothers, all right?"

"How come Ginny doesn't have to clean her room?" Ron grumbled.

"Because she cleaned it yesterday," Mum said. "You lot ought to take a leaf out her book and tidy up every night so your rooms don't get messy in the first place."

"Mother, my room is already tidy," Percy drawled, "Must I help the others?"

"Yes, Percy," Mum said. "Please help Ron; his room looks like a particularly angry tornado went through it."

Ron scowled her description of his room, but said nothing.

"What about our room?" George whined.

"How come we don't get help?" Fred continued.

"Because you two share a room, boys. You help each other."

"So?" the twins chorused.

"So you can do by yourself. Bill, around noon, heat up some leftovers; I think there's half a pot roast in the icebox. And if you find you're still hungry after cleaning out the ice box, then make sandwiches."

"Yes, ma'am," Bill said.

"Mum, has my letter from the Dragon Reserve come yet?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, dear, it's on the kitchen table," Mum said, gesturing to the kitchen. Charlie pumped his fists, and hurried into the kitchen. "Oh, Percy, after lunch, could you start on dinner? I've got everything laid out for pot pies."

"Yes, Mother."

"Thank you dear," Mum smiled at him, then turned to Fred and George with a determined expression on her face. Charlie re-entered the room as Mum advanced on her older set of twins.

"Now, before you start on your room, I want you to fix Percy's hair."

"Mum!" they groaned. "We told you," George said.

"It'll go away on its own," continued Fred.

"Just wait a few days!" the twins finished.

"I don't want to wait. Fix his hair. I want no pink hair in this house when I come back, are we clear?"

"Yes, Mum," they grumbled.

"Good," Mum said, a little more gently, and hugged the two. She then entrapped Ron into her arms, then Percy, who patted her stiffly on the back, then Bill, and finally Charlie, who was focusing on the letter in his hands. Ginny, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, waited while her brothers said good bye a little impatiently. In the back of her mind, her imaginary friend's side, she heard a train whistle, and snoring. She guessed He was asleep.

"Good bye," Mum said. Mum stepped over to her, and opened the door. Ginny turned to go, but hesitated. Then she turned back, and ran to Bill. Bill grunted theatrically as she collided with him. She hugged him tightly around the middle.

"Bye, Bill," Ginny said.

"Bye, Firefly," he said with a kind smile. "See you after lunch." Ginny grinned at him, and then, waving to her other brothers, she skipped out the door, grabbing her mother's hand as she went.

In the yard, Mum led her to the family's beat up Ford Anglia, while fiddling with the keys to the car. After they climbed in- Mum let her sit up front!- Mum started the car and they rolled out of the yard and down the dirt road to the highway. They drove for about half an hour, and by the time they reached the village, it was past nine thirty.

"What are we doing first, Mum?" Ginny asked as her mother parked the car in front of the local grocery.

"I thought we'd go window shopping," Mum said, opening her door. Ginny got out too, locking her door as she went.

"Good girl," Mum beamed at her. "Come on, there's a flea market over yonder. I'd thought we'd have a look."

"Why would someone sell fleas?"

"Oh, it's just a name. A flea market is a collection of little shops that sell various things. You never know what you'll find in a flea market."

"Okay," Ginny said. She took her mother's hand, and they left the parking lot. Mum and Ginny talked about this and that while they walked down the road. Mum told her about the day she received her Hogwarts letter, and Ginny laughed loudly at her mother's memory of accidentally getting her Uncle Gideon's letter instead of her own. Since the pair of them both had mild dyslexia, they hadn't paid close enough attention to the name's on the front of the envelope or the "Dear Miss/Mr. Prewett."

"It really said you had already passed your OWL's?" Ginny giggled.

"It did," Mum chuckled. "And your uncle was very confused at his lack of OWL results. Oh, the look on his face when he saw his first year book list; I thought he was going to have a heart attack."

"I'm glad I got my letter, and not Percy's," Ginny said. "I bet I would have been the youngest prefect in history!"

Mum laughed, and then pointed. Ahead, there was the local Muggle high school's soccer field. It was crowded with people, cars, tables, boxes, and all sorts of things.

"Whoa," Ginny gasped.

"Your first flea market."

"Come on!" Ginny squealed, and tugged her mother forward. They spent the next hour wandering through the little stalls and vendors. They didn't buy anything other than a bag of cotton candy. Around ten thirty, Mum suggested they head back into the village and get some brunch. That's when she saw it.

It was a display set up over two long card tables. Covering it was a mix of objects: stuffed animals, porcelain dolls, packs of cards and paper weights. But what caught Ginny's eye was the display of jewelry. Specifically, a necklace with blue and whitish stones strung along it. Most of the items were in boxes, and the saleswoman was loading the boxes into the bed of a rusty pickup truck.

"Mum, look!" she pointed, and her mother looked.

"My, my, that is pretty," Mum said. Ginny ran over to the stand, her eyes fixed on the necklace.

"Hello, hello!" said the woman attending the stand. She looked old, older than Ginny's mother, but her eyes, bright green, glinted with mirth and youth. She brushed off her hands, and stepped forward. "See anything you like?"

"That necklace," Ginny said, pointing to it. "It looks very interesting." And it did. The chain was silver, and other little chains branch off from it, with little white stones that shone blue in the light at the ends of each little chain.

The woman smiled and nodded. "You have a good eye, little girl. That necklace has quite a story behind it."

"It does?"

"Oh, yes. It's been in my family for years. The story goes that my great-great-great-aunt received it as a gift from the man she hoped to marry."

"She did?"

"Yes. Now, this man was a sailor, but a very kind one. He loved my aunt very much, so much, he asked her to marry him. Somewhere, there's an engagement ring that matches the necklace, but it was lost decades ago. But before they were married, the man was sent out to sea."

"What happened then?" Ginny asked. Behind her, Mum placed a hand on her shoulder.

The woman held up her hands. "Nobody knows for sure. Some say he died of scurvy. Some say his ship was wrecked and he drowned. But the most common tale is that he met a very pretty French maiden, and that was that. My aunt, of course, was heart broken. When she got the news about her fiance, she got sick."

"Sick? Did she catch a cold?"

"Nope. She got melancholia."

"Melon what?"

"Melancholia; means she got really, really sad. She got so sad; she stopped eating; stopped sleeping, just sat there, and cried."

"Then what happened?"

"Well," the woman put her hands on her hips, looking down at the necklace, "the story gets garbled again after that. Some say she starved to death. Some say she got the influenza, and died of that. Others say she jumped off a cliff."

Ginny gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. The lady nodded.

"Yep, she was that sad. There's another theory bout what happened to her, though, one I'm more inclined to believe."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, lowering her hands, and looking up at the woman eagerly.

The woman glanced around, then leaned forward and said in a hushed voice. "Some say my aunt was a witch. They say she made a magic potion and turned herself into a…."

"A what?"

"A marigold flower."

"Really?"

"Yep. They say she turned herself into a flower. And now the marigold is a symbol of sorrow and hard times."

"Wow," Ginny said, now looking at the necklace with new interest.

"How much is the necklace?" Mum asked.

"Well," the lady crossed her arms, "it depends on whether or not you're willing to take on the curse."

"What curse?" Ginny asked.

"Those who believe my aunt to be a witch think that before she became a flower, she cursed the necklace so that anyone who was unfaithful, but wore it was doomed to an unhappy life alone."

"I'm not unfaithful," Ginny said.

"Well of course you're not," said the lady.

"But how much is it?"

"Oh, twenty quid, if you're willing."

Mum nodded, then started going through her purse.

"Are you going to buy it Mum?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to wear it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Right then," Mum pulled out her coin purse, and riffled through it until she had an assortment of Muggle money. Mum fiddled with it, then handed the lady two ten pound notes. Ginny felt glad that Dad had drilled how to use Muggle money into them. "Here you are," Mum said.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," the lady said, smiling. "You go right ahead and try on that necklace, love," she said to Ginny.

Ginny lifted it up, and undid the clasp.

"Let me, sweetheart," Mum said, taking it from her. Mum put it on her, and Ginny grinned down at it.

"Thank you!" Ginny said. Then, her stomach rumbled. Mum and the lady laughed while Ginny blushed.

"Best get that one fed," the lady chortled.

"I will, come along, Ginny," Mum took her hand, and they turned to go.

"Miss?" Ginny asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you closing?"

"Yeah, I am, I've got to go meet my daughter at the train station. Why?"

"Just curious," Ginny shrugged. "Bye!"

"Bye," she said, waving.

Mum led her away, through the many stands, back to Main Street, to find a nice place for brunch.


	4. Chapter 4 Imagination is Out Reality

**Four: Imagination Is Our Reality**

**Harry**

**The train was late, of course. **Half way between London and Devon, the train had to stop to let a farmer herd his cattle across the tracks. There were a lot of cows.

By the time they got to Ottery St. Catchpole, it was almost twelve o'clock. And since they didn't have time to get breakfast that morning, Dudley had whined to high heaven and back about his hunger. Harry, of course, wasn't particularly hungry. He'd taken out the bag Anna had given him, and munched on pasties filled with sweet pumpkin filling, little cakes that tasted like chocolate and strawberries, sugary things that looked like feathers, and jelly beans. The jelly beans were the most interesting thing there. They had the strangest flavors. There were the normal ones, peppermint, berry, green apple, and others, but there were also one he'd never guessed could be put into beans. Like chocolate. And cinnamon. And a few disgusting ones, like liver, and dirt. He even came across one that reminded him of puke. He spat that one out. (Possibly the bean was the cause of Dudley puking, rather than motion sickness, because Harry could swear Dudley ate the bean.)

Once the train had stopped and Aunt Petunia hurried them off the train, Harry tugging along the majority of their luggage, they made their way through the bustling crowd, albeit a very small crowd to accommodate the tiny train station, and exited into the street beyond. Aunt Petunia kept glancing around nervously, and Harry was pretty sure she was on the guard for Uncle Vernon. How he knew, he wasn't sure. Aunt Petunia stopped by a telephone booth and made a quick call. When she came out, she looked, if it was possible, even more nervous.

"Our ride will be here soon," she said, guiding them to a nearby bench.

Harry was unsure of this fact, but stayed quiet. They sat on the bench for near to an hour before a rusty pickup truck chugged to a stop in front of them. An elderly woman climbed out, and advanced on them. Aunt Petunia jumped up and hugged the woman, who held her tightly in her arms, stroking Aunt Petunia's hair.

"Boys," Aunt Petunia said once she had let go of the woman, "come and say hello."

Dudley stood up shakily and waddled over to the woman, who hugged him too. Harry stayed where he sat. The woman patted Dudley on the head, but her eyes were on Harry. She gave Dudley a quick kiss and walked over to him. She knelt down in front of him, and reached out with a trembling hand to touch him. Her hand landed on his cheek, and Harry, who was looking at her in wonder and confusion, saw a tear slip down her face. He noticed that her eyes looked just like his.

"You look so much like him," she whispered. That's when Harry noticed that her eyes were a bright green, exactly the same shape and shade his were.

"I look like who?"

"Your father," she said, "but you've got Lily's eyes." Then her eyes traveled to his forehead, and she reached up, and gently touched the scar.

Harry blinked, even more confused at her actions. He did not have the slightest idea who this woman was.

"Harry, do you remember me at all?"

"No, ma'am."

"I'll have to have a little talk with your aunt then," the woman said, glancing over at Aunt Petunia.

"Uh, pardon me, but who are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm Thea Evans, Harry. I'm your grandmother."

Harry blinked at her. "You are?"

"Yes," Thea Evans gave him a teary smile. "Last time I saw you, you were just a babe, not even one year old. But even then, you had your daddy's hair and your mum's eyes. My eyes."

Harry blinked at her. He had assumed that all of his blood family but Aunt Petunia had long since died. Now, standing before him, was his grandmother. He looked over at Aunt Petunia, the only family he had ever known. Her hands were gripping Dudley's shoulders, who looked upset that he was not the center of attention. Aunt Petunia nodded, almost imperceptibly. Thea Evans stood up, pulling Harry with her. She hugged him tightly, and then led him over to her truck.

"Come on, I'll take you to lunch."

She lifted Harry with only a little grunt, which surprised him- he may have been skinny, but he wasn't that small!-, into the bed of her truck. Then she helped Dudley up. Aunt Petunia climbed into the passenger seat, and Thea took her place in the driver's seat. She turned the key in the ignition, the engine groaned, and it backfired suddenly. Dudley grabbed a hold of the side of the truck bed, and Harry laughed at him.

"Hold tight, boys!" Thea called as the truck rumbled to life. They drove down a couple blocks before Thea parallel parked the truck in front of a corner dinner. Harry hopped down from the truck bed, feeling very happy, knowing that his hair was in a right state. Thea helped Dudley down, and then, ruffling Harry's hair, messing it up even more, she led them into the dinner. The hostess, a young Spanish girl, was talking with a red haired woman. By her side was a little girl, nine or ten, with the same red hair, looking up expectantly at the woman, who Harry guessed to be her mother. Thea and Aunt Petunia started talking to each other, while Dudley sulked by his mother. Harry watched the little girl. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned. And Harry felt a sensation akin to being punched in the gut, something he knew quite well, unfortunately. The little girl's mouth opened to form a perfect 'o', and, Harry let his jaw drop.

_You? _His friend said in his mind. His imaginary friend, the one that only existed in his brain and his dreams.

_But- but you're my imagination! _Harry thought stupidly.

_You're my imagination!_

"Can it be?" he whispered.

"Are you real?" she whispered back. Without knowing it, Harry had moved forward. So had she.

"Of course I'm real; it's you that's supposed to be a figment of my imagination!" Harry said.

The girl's mother had stopped her conversation with the hostess.

"Ginny, come over here, dear," she said. The little girl- his not-so-imaginary friend- didn't move.

"Harry?" Aunt Petunia called. "Come here, now."

Harry glanced back, but his eyes wandered back to her again just as quickly. She cocked her head, and slowly stretched out a hand to touch his face. She laid her palm on his cheek, and gasped, jerking it back.

"I must be dreaming!" she insisted.

"You're not," Harry said, touching the spot her hand had touched. "I am."

"Harry, what are you doing?" Aunt Petunia said, stepping forward. She grabbed his arm and tried to tug him away from the girl. There was a short blast of light, his aunt gasped, and backed up quickly. She cradled her arm close to her, staring at him in confusion. Harry looked back to his friend, and shrugged. She frowned too, and poked him hard in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"

"Do people normally do that when they try to touch you?" she asked, pointing to Aunt Petunia.

"No," Harry glanced back at his aunt.

"Who is she, anyway?"

"My aunt Petunia," he said. "I've told you about her."

"OH!" the girl said, now beginning to smile. "The Queen of Cleaning."

"Ginny, come over here," the girl's mother called. She stepped forward and tried to pull her away from Harry, but another blast of light and the girl's mother let go with a gasp of pain.

"Is that something that happens a lot around you?" Harry asked. She shook her head.

"Mum, what's going on?" Dudley said in a loud, whiney voice. She glanced at him, and then her eyes found Thea.

"Mum, that's the lady who sold us my new necklace!" she said happily. Harry turned to look over at his newfound grandmother, and then turned his eyes back to his friend. "This necklace, see?" She said, touching the necklace around her neck. Harry reached out to touch it, and his fingers slid over the largest blue stone, which rested at her clavicle. She smiled, looking down at it.

"It's pretty," he said. "I thought you didn't mess around with things like jewelry, and skirts!" he let out a laugh, reaching down and fingering the blue fabric of her skirt. She shrugged.

"I am allowed to be a girl at times," she sniffed.

He laughed. "Of course you are."

"Ginny, who is this?" her mother asked. She turned.

"Oh, Mum, this is my imaginary friend, the one I told you about, his name's…" she trailed off, and then turned back to him. "Who are you?"

"Sorry?"

"What's your name?" she corrected herself.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling warmth spread to his cheeks. He stuck out his hand, and she took it. She had a firm grip.

"I'm Harry," he said. "Harry Potter."

She let go of his hand so quickly you would have thought it had turned to a live snake. She stared at him, mouth open in a silent question, eyes wide and cheeks growing to a light shade of rosy pink.

"What?" he asked, glancing between her and her mother, who looked just as stunned as she did.

"Imaginary friend?" he heard Aunt Petunia ask.

His friend's mother brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Ginny, I want to know exactly what is happening."

"So do I," Harry said. "What's so special about my last name? Half the people I meet nearly jump a foot in the air when I say my name's Potter, and complete strangers walk up to me on the street wanting to shake my hand. So what's so special about me?"

His friend shut her mouth and swallowed. "You- you're famous."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're taking the mickey," he said.

"But you are!" she said, taking a step back. "Your story is my favorite bedtime story, and I have friends who have Harry Potter dolls, and Luna Lovegood's father does a piece on you every Halloween in the _Quibbler_. You- you're the Boy Who Lived."

Harry blinked. "The people at the B and B said the same thing. But what's it mean?"

"You lived when you should have died," she whispered. "You should have been killed ten years ago, on Halloween, but you lived."

"I still don't understand," Harry said.

"Perhaps we should explain over lunch," Thea Evans interrupted, and Harry turned. She nodded in the direction of the hostess, who was looking just as confused as Harry felt. Thea knew as well?

"Quick question," Harry turned back to his friend while Thea went to his friend's mother and persuaded her to join them for lunch. "What's your name?"

She shook her head slowly. "You really are stupid at times."

"What?"

"Mum's said it over and over," she sighed. "It's Ginny."

Harry nodded, feeling his already warm cheeks grow warmer. Thea and Aunt Petunia and Ginny's mother had spoken with the hostess by then, and she was counting out menus.

"What should I call your mother?" he asked as the hostess led them to a booth in the back.

"Mrs. Weasley," she said. "What do I call your aunt? And the other lady?"

"Oh, my aunt is Mrs. Dursley, and that's Mrs. Evans. She's my grandmother. You were right, by the way," he added as they slipped into the booth. "She's Aunt Petunia's mother."

Dudley, who had been looking very surly ever since the conversation had started, chose that moment to stick out his fat hand to Ginny.

"I'm Dudley," he said. "And if you've got any brains, you'll drop him. He's a freak."

Ginny, who had reached out to grasp his hand, pulled back. "I think I'll stick with him, thanks."

Dudley scowled, but sat beside his mother. Mrs. Weasley took the seat beside Ginny, and Thea sat next to Dudley.

"So, Harry," she said, "you want to know why you are the Boy Who Lived. I would have thought that my daughter would have been kind enough to tell you. But I guess I was wrong. It all starts years and years ago…"

* * *

"_**Mum!" Lily Evans called.**__She ran into the dining room, holding a letter in her hand. Mrs. Thea Evans, who was sorting through that day's mail, looked up and smiled at her youngest daughter. She was a delight, already beautiful at eleven years old. She had her fathers red hair, but her mother's bright green eyes. Thea set aside the bill in her hands and pulled out a chair for Lily. She sat down beside her, her face flushed with excitement._

"_What is it, my flower?" Thea asked._

"_You know that letter I got?" Lily said. "Well, it said that I've been accepted at this school"_

"_How lovely darling," Thea said, feeling a little confused. She had signed Lily up for any schools, just the local primary school. "What school?"_

"_A magic school!" Lily said. _

_Thea raised her eyebrows. "Now, now, dear, I've told you, magic isn't real. You must stop all this nonsense. You're a big girl now, Lily."_

"_But Mum! I'm telling the truth!"_

"_Lily, stop it," Thea insisted. "There is no such thing as magic."_

_Just then, the doorbell rang. Petunia, Lily's older sister, called from the foyer, "I'll get it."_

_Thea stood, shaking her head at Petunia's blunder. She always volunteered to get the door, no matter how many times Thea told her to let her get the door. Lily followed her mother into the foyer, where Petunia had already opened the door. _

"_May I help you?" Thea asked, putting a hand on Petunia's shoulder. The woman at the door smiled. She was rather short, and quite plump. She had curly black hair, and gray eyes. _

"_My name is Augusta Longbottom, and I'm here to see Lily Evans."_

_Thea crossed her arms. "I'm Lily's mother. How can I help you?"_

"_Oh, well then, I am sure that Lily has received her letter already," Augusta Longbottom said. "From Hogwarts?"_

"_Oh, yes, I got it this morning!" Lily piped up behind her mother. Thea turned and pressed a finger to her lips. Then she addressed Longbottom. _

"_What's it to you?"_

"_I am sure then, that you are rather confused," she said. "My job is to explain to you the nature of Lily's abilities."_

"_What abilities?"_

"_Her magic, of course."_

_Thea raised her eyebrows, then, she gently pulled Petunia aside and gestured for Longbottom to enter. She did so, smiling genially. _

"_Through here," Thea said, leading the group into the adjoining sitting room. Longbottom took a seat on the couch, still smiling. Thea sat in an armchair, and Lily climbed into her mother's lap. Petunia took a seat on the floor._

"_Now what is this about?" Thea asked._

"_I have never had the patience for subtlety, so I will be blunt. Your daughter is a witch."_

_Thea raised her eyebrows for a third time that day. "A what?"_

"_A witch. An honest to goodness witch," Longbottom said. "Hogwarts is a school for children like her, who have magical abilities, to learn how to control their magic, and how to use it."_

"_You're joking," Thea laughed. "There's no such thing as magic!"_

"_Oh, is there?" Longbottom said. She smiled, and then pulled from the pocket of her jacket a long thin wooden stick. "I am a witch as well, Mrs. Evans, and I will prove to you that magic is very real." She pointed her stick at the coffee table, and said "Evanesco." The coffee table vanished. Petunia gasped, and Lily clapped her hands in enjoyment. Thea stared in shocked silence at the place where her coffee table had been. Mrs. Evans waved her stick once more and the table reappeared. "And so, magic is real."_

"_Do more, do more!" Lily said, grinning rather broadly. Longbottom smiled, and pointed her stick at the grate. "Incendio!" Fire erupted from the end of her stick, and lit the grate. Lily squealed with joy. "Orchidus," Longbottom said, and a bunch of flowers spouted from her stick. She handed the bouquet to Lily, who looked overjoyed. _

"_You're saying that Lily can do that?" Thea said, staring at the flowers in Lily's hands. _

"_Not right away, but once she has completed her training at Hogwarts, she will."_

_Thea took the flowers from Lily, and laid them on the newly returned coffee table._

"_So there are witches still in England?"_

"_All over the world!" Longbottom said. "In America, in Asia, in Africa. Everywhere. In fact, there is a witch and her son living not far from here, in Spinner's End."_

"_Snape!" Petunia said. "That greasy old git who's always spying on us?"_

"_Severus doesn't spy, Tuny," Lily said. "He's lonely. He wants to be friends."_

"_Yes, Severus Snape is a wizard," Longbottom said. "I went to school with his mother."_

"_Oh, wonderful!" Lily said. "I'm really a witch, just like Sev said!"_

"_You knew?" Thea said, turning to her daughter._

"_Sev told me," Lily said, looking at her feet. "But he made me swear to not tell anyone else."_

"_Why?" Thea asked, looking at her daughter in confusion, though a little worried._

"_He said it was our secret," she said, her smile fading. _

"_Uh, Mrs. Evans," Longbottom interrupted. "As you and your husband are Muggles, or non-magical, I must ask you to not divulge what I have revealed to you to anyone outside your family. Grandparents, close family members, you may tell them about Lily's abilities but make sure they do not tell anyone else. We, that is to say, the magical community find it easier to maintain a healthy lifestyle outside of the Muggle community in secrecy."_

"_So we can't tell our friends?" Thea asked. "I mean, this is extraordinary; Lily has had these abilities for forever, and some of our friends know about them, but they, like us, have never understood it. Now we understand, and you are saying they are not allowed to?"_

"_If you can trust them to never reveal her abilities, then yes, you may tell them. But if they have a tendency to be a little loose lipped, then no, do not. I am telling you this not to restrict you, but to protect Lily. There are still some people out there that will look down on her because of what she can do, even detest her. You have heard of Lenard Lament?"_

"_The serial killer?" Thea said. "He caused quite a panic. But they caught him, didn't they? Three years ago; he's in prison."_

"_Lament is in prison, and he will never escape I assure you. He was caught purely because the Ministry of Magic, our government, found the connection between his victims: they were all wizards and witches. We tracked Lament down and he confessed, under the influence of a truth potion, to having killed more than thirty witches and wizards. Why? Because of their abilities. I'm not saying this to scare you, but to warn you. Lament wasn't the only Muggle to hate wizards: the many witch burnings during the seventeenth century are proof of that. I ask you to be cautious of whom you tell about Lily's abilities to keep her and your family safe."_

_Thea hugged Lily to her tightly, gesturing for Petunia to come over to her. When Lament had still been at large, a young girl down their street had disappeared. The police were sure that she had been one of his victims. It had terrified everyone on the street. It was then that Thea quit her job and stayed at home with her children twenty-four-seven. In particular, she had ordered Lily to stay indoors, and never go outside, because Lily and the girl down the street had been very similar, and she had some of the same powers that Lily had. Petunia wasn't allowed outside either. The thought that Lily could have been killed because of her abilities struck too close to home._

"_With that said," Longbottom said, "I have one last thing to say. Lily will need school supplies and I will be the one to escort you and Lily to Diagon Alley. Since you are not a witch, and Lily isn't a proper witch yet, you will need my help."_

"_What is Diagon Alley?" Thea asked._

"_It is a Wizarding shopping mall, basically. There are more across the world, but Diagon Alley is closest, and it is the home to the England branch of Gringotts, our bank. There you can have your Muggle money converted to Wizarding money."_

_Thea nodded, trying to take it all in. "When do we go?"_

"_Whenever it is possible for you," Longbottom replied. "But soon, she will need her supplies by August 31__st__at the latest. The sooner, the better."_

_Thea smiled. "Well, we have this Saturday free. How about you swing by Saturday morning about nine, and we go then? And Petunia can come with us if she wants, right?"_

"_Of course, of course!" Longbottom said, smiling. "Well, I must be going. Did you send your reply to your letter before I arrived, Lily?"_

"_No, ma'am."_

"_Well, how about you go write your reply, and I will take it to the post office for you."_

_Lily smiled, jumped up, and ran from the room. About five minutes later, she returned with a sealed envelope. She handed it to Longbottom, who took it with a smile._

"_Thank you, Lily," Longbottom said. She stood. "I must take my leave. Thank you, Mrs. Evans, for being so understanding."_

_Thea nodded once more, and showed Longbottom out._

* * *

"After that, things were never the same," Thea added to the conclusion to her story. "Lily's father wasn't exactly happy with her being a witch. He was a religious man, and he believed witchcraft to be a terrible sin. He kept quiet about it, fortunately, but he never delighted in the feats of magic she showed over the years, and he did not approve of James. Still, Lily was excellent at magic, and she never let it go to her head. She didn't brag about it to Petunia, but she wasn't tight lipped about either. She told us all about Hogwarts in her letters, about her friends; and as she matured, I never had to worry about boys because Lily just wasn't interested in that sort of thing.

"Then, in her very last year at Hogwarts, she started dating James Potter. He was such a nice boy, so polite and very handsome. Lily was enamored with him. They got married about two years after finishing at Hogwarts, and they had you almost immediately. Lily and Petunia hadn't been as close as they once were during that time, but Lily wanted to change that, I think, because she made Petunia your godmother. And then, Lily stopped sending us letters as often. The last one I got was just a few weeks before she died. She told me that she had to go into hiding with James and you, because her world was at war. There was a man named Lord Voldemort who wanted power, and he wanted to kill people like Lily, people who had Muggle parents. I still don't understand completely, but Lord Voldemort had made personal threats to Lily and James, and so they went underground. But it didn't help. I was visited on November first, ten years ago, by the Minister of Magic himself- the wizards have their own government you know- and he told me what had happened. Lily and James had used some sort of magic to hide them, and the only person who knew where they were was a close friend of James's, but that close friend betrayed them, and told Voldemort where they were. He went to the place where they were hiding, in a small village called Godric's Hollow, and killed them.

"But for some reason, he couldn't kill you. He tried to, but he could not. That's why you're famous Harry. When Lord Voldemort tried to kill you, the spell he used rebounded, and he was killed, but you lived! I would have taken you myself, but Petunia was your godmother, and she insisted to have you," Thea said. "I would have visited, but that dreadful husband of hers never let me. And I told you," she said, turning to Petunia, "I told you he was no good. And now look what's happened!"

"Mum, can we please discuss this sometime else?" Aunt Petunia said.

"Yes, all right," Thea sighed.

"But what about Ginny?" Harry asked. "Why can we read each other's minds?"

Thea frowned. "I don't rightly know."

"Neither do I," said Ginny's mother. "We should ask Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" Thea said. "The Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he ought to know," Mrs. Weasley said.

"In the meantime," Aunt Petunia said, "let's order lunch."

Lunch was low-key. Harry tried to order water, but Thea told him to get whatever he wanted so he ordered a root beer. He'd never had one before, but Dudley got it a lot, so it seemed like something that would be good.

After lunch was when it happened.

They had left the restaurant and stood by Thea's truck. Harry glanced between the beat up old car Mrs. Weasley was standing by and the truck.

"Harry, we have to go," Aunt Petunia said. "We'll stay with your grandmother for a while, all right?"

Harry frowned. "But what about Ginny?"

Aunt Petunia smiled tightly. Harry knew she was faking it.

"Your friend will have to wait. It's been a long day. Dudley needs to rest."

Thea turned on her daughter with a steely look in her eyes. "Now, Tuny, we ought to think this through. These two are connected, they should be together. We don't want to stretch the connection."

"They've been apart for their entire lives, they'll be fine," Aunt Petunia sighed.

Ginny gripped his hand. He felt warmth spread up his arms, starting from his fingers.

_I don't want to leave you, _he thought.

_I don't want you to leave either, _she thought.

"Can't I stay with her?" Harry asked.

Mrs. Weasley stepped towards them. "Harry, I'm afraid Ginny and I have to go home."

"Mummy, can't he come with us?" Ginny asked.

Mrs. Weasley looked hesitant. She glanced at Thea and Aunt Petunia. Thea shrugged and Aunt Petunia frowned.

"Well, it would seem better to keep you two together," Mrs. Weasley mused.

Ginny stuck out her bottom lip. Harry fought the urge to laugh.

_Shut up, _she thought.

_You're funny! _Harry thought back. _It's cute._

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "If his aunt says he can, then yes."

"Well, I don't." Aunt Petunia grabbed his arm. "Harry, come on."

A flash of light erupted between them, throwing Aunt Petunia backwards. She hit the ground, and stared up at him in shock.

"I didn't do that!" Harry said quickly.

Aunt Petunia pushed herself up, brushing off her slacks. She glanced around, but no one was watching.

"Harry, come here," she ordered.

Harry glanced at Ginny. She was looking at the ground, down at her sandals.

_What should I do?_

Ginny looked up at him. Her face seemed sad. _I don't want you to go, but your aunt told you to go._

Harry furrowed his brow. All his life, he'd done what he'd been told. Harry, do this. Harry, do that. He'd obeyed every command he'd been given.

Could he obey this one?


	5. Chapter 5 Meeting Albus Dumbledore

Five: Meeting Albus Dumbledore

Ginny

Harry was biting his lip. He looked deep in concentration. She could hear him thinking it all over.

He looked over at his aunt. "I have to go with them," he said. "I can't leave Ginny."

Ginny grinned. She squeezed his hand quickly. He squeezed it back.

Mrs. Dursley looked even more stunned than when he knocked her down. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I need to be with Ginny," he said. "I can't leave her."

"Why not?"

"I don't know exactly why, but something tells me I shouldn't leave her."

"You only met her today!" Mrs. Dursley said in exasperation.

"Aunt Petunia, I've known her all my life," Harry said. Ginny's smile changed to a more warm and sweet smile.

Mrs. Dursley looked at Harry like he had just grown an extra pair of arms. "You have lost your mind," she said.

Mrs. Evans touched Mrs. Dursley's shoulder. "You should let him go," she said.

Mrs. Dursley turned to Mrs. Evans with the same expression. "You've all gone mad," she breathed. "He is a ten year old boy. He does not know better than me. And I know it would be madness to let my charge go frolicking off with a stranger."

"Ginny's not a stranger!" Harry said.

"Well, excuse me for thinking that her mother and her family are," Mrs. Dursley said. "Harry, come to me. Now."

Harry's grip on her hand tightened. "No. I need to stay with Ginny."

Mrs. Dursley glanced around, her expression both frustrated and flustered. She set her eyes on Ginny. "You, girl, tell him that he's being stupid."

Mrs. Evans grabbed Mrs. Dursley's arm. "Petunia, watch your attitude."

Mrs. Dursley jerked her arm away from Mrs. Evans. "Mother, my godson is being the disobedient little brat that he is, and I will not sugar coat my words to make him feel better. He needs to know that he is acting ridiculous."

Mrs. Evans scowled. "What happened to you, Petunia? You used to be so sweet." She sighed. "Never mind. We'll sort that out later. Sweetheart, Harry isn't being ridiculous. He's being sensible. It is his connection to Ginny, his instincts. I think it would be wise to allow him to stay with Ginny, until we figure out what's happening."

Mrs. Dursley scowled even deeper than Mrs. Evans. "He has an overactive imagination."

"Mrs. Dursley," Ginny said, catching the attention of the older, sterner woman. "Harry thought _I _was his imagination until today. And I can feel it too, Harry should stay with me."

Mrs. Dursley narrowed her eyes at Ginny. Ginny swallowed nervously.

Then, she threw her hands in the air. "Fine. I don't care. Take him away, do whatever." She opened the truck door and pulled a rucksack from it. She tossed it at Harry, who caught it with a grunt. Ginny decided the Queen of Cleaning was more evil than she'd originally thought.

Mrs. Evans gave Mrs. Dursley a strange look, and approached them. She smiled warmly, and knelt down before them. She touched Harry's shoulder. Ginny half expected a flash of light to push her away, but no light came up. Maybe it only came when someone tried to separate them.

"Harry, darling," Mrs. Evans said, "you be on your best behavior for Mrs. Weasley, okay? I'll come see you as soon as that Dumbledore can come and try to muddle out what's happening, or, if you need me." She pulled something from her pocket, a little card, and handed it to him.

"My telephone number and my home address in on that," she said. "You come and see me, call me, anything, if you need me, all right?"

Harry tucked the card into his pocket. Then he frowned.

_You don't have a telephone, do you? _He thought to her.

_A what?_

_I thought so._

"They don't have telephones," Harry said. Mrs. Evans glanced at her; she nodded. Mrs. Evans smiled again.

"Well, then come see me," she said. "Now, you be good."

Mrs. Evans gently kissed his forehead. Harry looked startled as she stood up, and walked back to her truck.

_Never been kissed before, then? _She thought.

_No, but I've seen it happen. It's not as wet as I expected. _

Ginny laughed. "Come on, Mum's waiting."

She pulled him to the car. Mum looked like she had no idea where the afternoon had gone as she opened the door for Harry and her.

Ginny climbed into the backseat, Harry followed her.

"Buckle up," Mum said and closed the doors. Ginny watched her suck her breath in and let it out slowly. Then she climbed into the car too.

"How am I going to explain this to Arthur?" Mum mumbled in the driver's seat. She started the car, and pulled out into the street.

Harry watched out the window as they passed Mrs. Evan's truck. Dudley was watching them drive away.

Ginny gripped Harry's hand again.

_You okay?_ She reached out.

_Yeah, I'm fine._

_You're lying. Honestly, I can read your mind, silly! You'd think you would have learned by now not to lie to me._

_Yeah I know._

_What's up?_

_It's just, Aunt Petunia, I almost thought for a minute that maybe she did really care about me. Because she was refusing to let me go. But, I guess not._

Ginny's heart broke, watching him. He'd been hurt so much, too much. Ginny didn't really know how to respond to his quiet disappointment, so she slid across the bench so she sat right beside him. She curled her arm through his, and rested her head on his shoulder. He glanced at her, surprised, but then he smiled.

_I'm glad I have you,_ he thought.

_I'm glad you have me too,_ she thought back. _So, Harry Potter._

_I'm famous, _he thought, his mental voice was full of awe and confusion.

_Very famous,_ she replied. _You have dolls and picture books and everything._

_I don't suppose you have any of those, then?_

Ginny blushed, and Harry smirked. Her fascination with the story of the Boy Who Lived was always something she kept under lock and key in her mind. It was just something she thought her imaginary male friend wouldn't understand and therefore didn't need to know about it.

_All right, I have picture books, and one doll. Just one!  
_

_Wow, I never knew being famous could have so many perks. Dolls, picture books, I must be rich from that stuff!_

Ginny laughed. Mum glanced at them in the mirror, but sighed and looked away.

_I think we're confusing Mum, _Ginny thought.

_Of course we are, _Harry thought, smirking. _We're talking to each other in our minds, Ginny, she's probably confused to America and back. _

Ginny laughed again. Mum glanced back at them, one eyebrow raised.

"It's nothing," Ginny said.

"If you say so," Mum sighed.

Harry and Ginny did not speak again the rest of the trip. Harry commented this and that, the countryside, the strangeness of the car and the afternoon, but he never spoke a word. Ginny couldn't help but grin; she was going to have a lot of fun with her not so imaginary friend.

* * *

Harry

Ginny's house was as different from Aunt Petunia's as night is from day. As they approached, they passed a wooden sign stuck in the earth reading 'The Burrow.' The house itself looked as though the bottom floors had been built several decades ago, but had been added onto over the years. It was leaning over to the left, and Harry was surprised it had not fallen over years ago. The steps to the kitchen door were littered with rusty caldrons, old rubber boots, and dirt. The kitchen itself was wide and open and merrily preparing dinner, with no one around. Ginny's mother dropped her hand bag onto the counter and sighed. She withdrew a long wood stick, a wand, Ginny said in his thoughts, and waved it in the air. The fire in the old fashioned wood stove fizzled out. The pots and pans washing themselves in the sink ceased their cleaning. The knife chopping up various vegetables and potatoes dropped to the counter.

"I told Percy to make it himself," Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Percy, that's the one with pink hair, right?" Harry asked. Mrs. Weasley looked at him sharply.

"How-"

"I told him, Mum," Ginny said. "Ages ago."

"Two days ago," Harry said. Ginny punched him lightly in the arm. Mrs. Weasley seemed to accept that the situation was not going to be something she would understand, and led them from the kitchen to the room beyond, past a scrubbed wooden table large enough to seat a dozen, to a comfortable looking sitting room. A boy with faded pink hair was sitting in one of the armchairs, turning the pages of his book idly.

He looked up as Mrs. Weasley entered, and quickly stuffed the book behind him as he jumped up.

"Mother," he said, almost breathlessly, "I- I was just about to... to..." he trailed off, for his eyes had found Harry.

"Who is that?" he asked.

Mrs. Weasley glanced back at Harry. "Well, it is rather a long story, one I don't want to repeat multiple times. This is Harry Potter."

Percy let out a little gasp. His face colored behind his glasses, as his eyes traveled upward to the strands of faded pink hair falling over his eyebrows.

"Sweet Merlin," he muttered. "Mr. Potter, please excuse-"

"The pink hair?" Harry said, hiding a smirk. "It's okay. Ginny said Fred and George hexed it."

Percy nodded. "I- I'm just going to- to m-make dinner," he stammered, and he darted past them and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"He's always been very formal," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry. "It must be torture for him right now."

"I know," Harry said. Mrs. Weasley nodded, muttering, "Of course you do."

_Mum isn't used to this sort of thing, _Ginny thought.

_I can tell_, Harry thought back, smiling at her. Mrs. Weasley glanced between the two of them, then sighed and turned towards the stairs leading up to the upper floors.

"BOYS!" she hollered. Thundering footsteps sounding, and Harry immediately thought of an army marching into battle. He had a sudden thought of what he knew of Ginny's brothers, and wondered if he should be afraid. He stepped backward, and closer to his friend. Ginny glanced at him and shook her head, but she was smiling.

_Just be yourself_, she thought. _You'll be all right._

_Easy for you to say,_ Harry thought grumpily. The army of Ginny's other brothers stampeded down the last few steps to line up in front of their mother. He recognized them one by one. The one on the far right was Bill, going by the ponytail and fang earring. Then next was Charlie, short and stocky. Then in the middle were the two identical twins. He couldn't tell which was which. Last was Ginny's twin, Ron. All five of them had caught sight of Harry, and all five were staring curiously.

"Percy, come back in here," Mrs. Weasley called. Percy came back out of the kitchen, pink haired head hanging, to join his brothers.

Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on Harry's shoulders and steered him out from behind Ginny. "This is Harry Potter."

A collective intake of breath from the brothers, all but Percy. Harry waved shyly.

"He will be staying with us for a while," Mrs. Weasley said. "He's- well, I'm not quite sure what to call him."

Ginny stepped forward. "He's my imaginary friend," she said.

All six boys looked to her with similar shocked expressions.

"Your what?" Percy said in a stunned voice.

"He's the imaginary friend I've told you about," she said. "The one I forgot to name."

Bill and Charlie glanced at each other. Percy seemed disbelieving. Ron, Fred and George looked like they were still trying to process it all.

"We don't quite understand it," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm going to call Dumbledore and ask him for help, but in the meantime Harry will be staying with us. Ron, would you mind letting him bunk with you?"

Ron turned as red as his hair. "B-bunk with me?" he stumbled over the words, looking even more shocked.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said. "You're the least likely to pester him."

Harry felt reassured that Mrs. Weasley was on his and Ginny's side.

_Ron will still pester you, but not as much as the others,_ Ginny thought.

_I'll live,_ he thought back.

Ginny flashed him a smile, he smiled back.

The brothers were eyeing him again. Mrs. Weasley glanced at them, and sighed.

"They can read each other's minds," she said, almost reluctantly. "And no, you may not ask them about it," she snapped at one of the twins, who had opened his mouth curiously. The twin scowled. "Ron, show Harry your room, please."

Ron nodded, and waved at Harry to follow him. Ron looked thoroughly confused as he led Harry up the stairs. Ginny waved to him as he mounted the steps. Harry waved back. Today had been crazy, and he was loving every moment of it.

"So," Ron said as they climbed higher and higher. "How did you become my sister's imaginary friend?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied. "One day, I just got fed up with being shunted and ignored, so I made up a friend and she was Ginny."

"Shunted?" Ron repeated, frowning. "What would you be shunted for?"

"I live with my aunt and uncle, or, I used to. They don't particularly like me."

"Used to?"

"My uncle was a drinker," Harry admitted. "My aunt got fed up with him, packed up me and my cousin, and brought us out here to stay with my grandmother. At least, that was the plan. Then I met Ginny for real, and my grandmother and your mother decided it would be best to not separate us."

"And they're Muggles, right?"

"Yes."

Ron seemed a little less confused than he did when they started up the stairs. He stopped on a final landing, and turned to Harry.

"If you're Ginny's imaginary friend, then she must have told you everything."

"She does."

"What's she say about me?"

Harry thought about it for a moment.

_What? _Ginny thought.

_He wants to know what you say about him._

_Tell him it isn't his business._

"She says it's not your business," Harry said aloud.

"Says?" Ron frowned. Then he made a look of vague understanding. "Right, the reading each other's minds thing." Harry nodded.

"Maybe I'm dreaming," Ron mumbled as he turned to the door. He turned the handle, and the door swung open.

It was like walking into an explosion. Everything was covered in bright orange: The walls, the floor, the ceiling, even the bedspread. Harry already knew Ron was a huge fan of the Chuddly Cannons, but this was just too much orange to live in.

Ron fidgeted with a miniature figurine of a Quidditch player as he waited for Harry's reaction. (Ginny had explained the rules of Quidditch to him AGES ago.)

"It's just like Ginny said it was," Harry said.

Ron raised one eyebrow and narrowed the other eye. He seemed too confused to do much else.

"Right," Ron muttered, dropping the figurine. It flew away on it's miniature broom. "So, you know everything about us?"

"Only what Ginny's told me," Harry said quickly.

"And you're the Boy Who Lived." Ron's eyes drifted away from his, to land on Harry's scar.

"Well, yes," Harry said. "Um, I don't really know much about being famous, so..." he trailed off awkwardly.

_Just be yourself,_ Ginny thought.

Harry sighed, and glanced around. "Um, where will I sleep?"

"Oh, right," Ron looked around, and then stepped over a overflowing box and to something that Harry had guessed to be a desk or something similar, but Ron swept his arm over it, sending the junk covering it crashing to the floor, and Harry saw it was another bed. Harry instantly knew who's it had been. The quilt covering it was a creamy white, patterned with different flowers. Ginny's.

"Ginny used to sleep there, but Mum and Dad gave her her own room a few years ago. We never bothered to get rid of the bed," Ron explained. Harry knew this already, but didn't let on that he knew, seeing as Ron was already befuddled.

"I'll get a different blanket," Ron said.

"No, that one's fine," Harry said quickly. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not fond of orange," Harry said.

"But it's got flowers and it's all girly," Ron said.

"I don't mind," Harry said. "Don't go to any trouble."

Ron shrugged and navigated over more piles of stuff to the other bed. Harry stepped over the same box filled to the brim with comic books and toys to the bed. He sank onto it, heard the groaning of old bed springs, and set his rucksack on the ground beside it.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

Ron looked over at him, then around the room awkwardly.

"Um..." he said.

"Er..." Harry said.

_Ask him to tell you about the Chuddly Cannons, _Ginny thought. _That will get him on our side quickly._

_What do we need him on our side for?  
_

_In case Dad decides I'm too young to have a boy in my head. We'll need backup._

_You've had me in your head for ages!_

_I know that but Dad doesn't!_

Harry let out an aggravated sigh.

"Ginny says I should ask you about the Chuddly Cannons," Harry said. Somewhere, Ginny smacked herself in the forehead.

_Why didn't you just ask instead of saying I told you to?_

_Because I have no idea what I'm doing._

_Boys._

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What would she want you to know about my Quidditch team for?"

"She says it will get you on our side."

"You have a side?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess. She's afraid your dad won't like the fact that I can hear her thoughts."

"She's confused. All Dad will care about is the fact that you live with Muggles," Ron said.

Harry frowned. "He will?" Ron nodded.

"Dad LOVES Muggles. He thinks they're fascinating."

Harry was relieved. Ginny had told him about some wizards thinking that Muggles were scum and anyone to do with them were scum too.

"So," Ron said.

"Um..." Harry said.

_If this situation gets any more awkward, I'll eat my hat._

_Are you wearing a hat?  
_

_No, but I've got hats._

_You're silly._

_You're thick-headed._

_Shut up._

_You shut up!  
_

_Yes ma'am._

Downstairs, Harry knew Ginny was laughing. Harry smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Harry said. Several seconds of awkward silence ensued. "Um, maybe we should, you know, get to know each other a bit," he suggested.

Ron nodded slowly. "All right. Er, how?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll say something about me, and then you say something about yourself, and so on."

"Okay. You first."

"Right. Um... I'm turning eleven at the end of July."

"My birthday's in May."

"My favorite color is red."

"Mine's orange."

Harry laughed. "I figured," he said, looking around the room. Ron smiled.

"What else?" Ron said.

Harry thought a moment. "Favorite foods?"

"Mine's apple pie."

"I've never had apple pie," Harry said.

"You've never had apple pie?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"My aunt and uncle never let me."

Ron stared at him, mouth agape. "Come on, let's go ask Mum to make some. You've got to try it." Ron leapt up off the bed, and bounded across the room. Harry followed as quickly as he could in the mess. They ran down the stairs, causing quite a ruckus, to see Mrs. Weasley bent over the fireplace in the living room.

"...it's quite confusing, the whole thing," Mrs. Weasley was saying. "Albus, tell me you have an explanation."

"What's she doing?" Harry whispered to Ron.

"Making a Floo call," Ron hissed back. "Probably to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. Vaguely, he remembered Ginny telling him about Floo calling.

"I will look through my books and speak to the previous Headmasters," said a man's voice, a soft, merry voice. "I will do my best to discover what connects them."

"Will you want to come speak with them?"

"Yes, but not now. It is a wise idea to keep them together until we know more. You are comfortable with having Harry stay with you for the time being?"

"Of course."

"Good. I shall Floo you again when I know more."

"Thank you, Professor."

There was a slight _whoosh_ and Mrs. Weasley straightened. She turned, and spotted Ron and Harry standing by the stairs.

"What is it, dears?" Mrs Weasley said.

"Harry's never had apple pie," Ron said. "Could you make some for dessert?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Of course, dear. I'll whip up some in a minute. Are you settled in, Harry, dear?"

Harry nodded. "I'm very grateful that you're letting me stay with you," he said.

"Oh, it's no trouble," Mrs. Weasley said. "One more child isn't going to upset things around here."

"Is there anything I could help with?" Harry asked.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "No, dear. You just relax. Ginny's gone outside, if you'd like to be with her."

Harry smiled at Mrs. Weasley. "Okay, thanks. Come on, Ron."

The two boys left the room with thundering feet and smiles. They found Ginny in the garden, which Mrs. Dursley certainly would not have liked. Harry loved it. The plants were overgrown, their perfumes mixing together to entice and delight his senses. Ginny was sitting with her back to a wide but short tree, the branches weighed down with delicious looking peaches.

Harry sat beside her. Ron stood there, looking awkward.

_Hey, _Harry thought. Ginny smiled at him and laid her head on his shoulder.

_I'm really tired,_ Ginny thought. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.

_Okay. _Harry glanced at Ron.

"She's tired," he said.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, his voice just a little bit annoyed. "She's my sister."

Harry's cheeks warmed. "Right. Um..."

Ginny poked him in the ribs. "Keep playing that game. I'll just listen."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Um, what's your best school subject?"

Ron sank onto the ground, sitting Indian style. "Quidditch."

Harry laughed. "Mine's lunch."

Ron grinned.

"Does lunch count as school?" Ginny asked.

"When it's at school, it does," Harry said defensively.

"Fine," Ginny yawned.

"What's your favorite thing to do?" Ron said. "I like to play Quidditch and chess."

"I don't get to play much," Harry said.

"Why not?"

"My aunt and uncle-"

"Never let you," Ron guessed, scowling. Harry nodded. "They sound like evil people."

Harry shrugged. "They're mean to me, sure, but they're not evil. They just don't like me. I'm abnormal."

"That doesn't mean they can treat you so horribly," Ginny said.

"Let's talk about something else," Harry said, feeling awkward.

"Let's stop talking altogether and let me nap," Ginny said.

Ron and Harry laughed.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley called. "I need you!"

Ron pushed himself off the ground. "Coming, Mum!" he yelled back. "See you later," he said to Harry and Ginny. He turned, and walked back to the house.

"Harry," Ginny said suddenly.

"What?"

"What do you suppose this is?"

"What is?"

"This," she said, "us. Hearing our thoughts."

Harry thought about it. "I don't know, Ginny."

Ginny yawned again. Harry looked down at her, resting on his shoulder, and couldn't help but notice that he quite liked having her there.

Where did that come from?

After a while, Ginny fell asleep. In the shade of the peach tree, Harry rested his head against the tree's trunk, and fell asleep too.

A long while later, after quite a few dreams, the sound of voices and footsteps roused Harry. As he blearily looked around, his eyes still gummed with sleep, he saw three adults approaching.

_Ginny,_ he thought. _Wake up._

"Go 'way," Ginny mumbled.

"Wake up," he said aloud, shaking her gently. Ginny stirred, waving a hand in the air as though warding off a fly. But she opened her eyes and looked around. Her eyes found his, and her cheeks colored bright red.

"Oh!" she said, sitting up quickly. His arm was still around her. "It wasn't a dream!"

Harry laughed quietly. "Nope. But people are here."

Ginny looked around, and the three adults came into the garden.

"Ginny? Harry?" Mrs. Weasley's voice. "Where are you?"

"Over here, Mum!" Ginny called back. The three adults worked their way through the bushes and stopped by the tree.

"There you are," Mrs. Weasley said. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you."

Harry pulled his arm away from Ginny quickly. He had noticed the third person in the group, a tall man with a receding red hairline. His face burned and he avoided Ginny's father's gaze.

Professor Dumbledore lowered himself onto the ground, sitting with his legs tucked beneath him. Professor Dumbledore was a very old man. He had long silver hair, and an equally long beard. He wore half-moon glasses, perched upon a very crooked nose. His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and he was smiling gently at them.

"Hello, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "Ginny. How are you?"

"All right," Harry said.

"Sleepy," Ginny yawned. Professor Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"I would imagine," Professor Dumbledore said. "It has been a very interesting day, hasn't it?"

Ginny nodded.

"I was wondering if you could tell me about this connection of yours," Dumbledore said.

"We can hear each other's thoughts," Ginny said.

"No matter where you are?"

Harry nodded.

"Before you met, did you know that your imaginary friend was Harry Potter, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny shook her head. "I kept forgetting to name him," she said.

"Same here," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I see. And, tell me, do you know what the other is doing even when you can't see each other?"

They nodded.

"When did you first hear each other?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "I- I can't remember. It was a long time ago."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. "I've always been able to hear him."

"I see," Dumbledore mused. "You were asleep when we walked up, correct?"

Ginny nodded. Harry's face burned redder as he nodded as well. Dumbledore glanced at Ginny's father and smiled.

"He doesn't bite, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling gently. Harry prayed it was true.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

Harry frowned. "Not exactly."

Ginny shook her head. "All I remember is seeing Harry."

"And did you see Ginny in your dream, Harry?"

Harry nodded. Professor Dumbledore nodded again, and stood. "I have no further questions. I will Floo call you when I know more. Molly, Arthur." Dumbledore bowed to Harry and Ginny, then to Ginny's parents, and left the garden.

Mrs. Weasley offered a hand to Ginny. "Supper's ready, dears," she said, helping Ginny up. Harry stood, and moved to follow the, but Mr. Weasley lay a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"So, Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley said. "My daughter's imaginary friend."

Harry gulped. "Yes, sir," he said.

Mr. Weasley smiled at him. "Dumbledore was right, you know. I don't bite."

"I realize that, sir," Harry said. "I just thought it would be a good idea to watch my step."

Mr. Weasley's eyes twinkled with amusement. "And a good idea that is. And I realize that you are not yet eleven, so I will leave you be for now. Just be good to Ginny, all right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I will."

Mr. Weasley patted Harry's shoulder. "Come along, Molly's made pot pies, and apple pie too."

Mr. Weasley steered him out of the garden, and into the brightly lit kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6 A Revelation (Of Sorts)

Six: A Revelation (Of Sorts)

Ginny

Dinner was delicious, as usual. Harry was startled when Mum offered him as large a portion of the pot pie as she did to the rest of us, maybe even a bit larger. Ginny remembered how his aunt and uncle tended to give him the smallest portions possible. Harry took it gratefully, giving her a wide-eyed stare of amazement, which then turned into a wide grin after his first bite.

The conversation was only a little bit awkward. Percy was overly formal, almost to the point of hilarity. Fred and George had seemed to accept Harry's sudden insertion into the family, and were treating him like they had known him for years. Ginny knew Harry was glad they were treating him so nicely, and she herself was glad they weren't interrogating him about their connection. Ron and Harry had become fast friends; Bill was polite and his normal cheerful self, and Charlie was quiet, listening to Mum and Dad and to the rest of the conversations. Ginny knew was waiting for the right opportunity to say something about his dragon reserve job. Mum had quickly taken Harry under her wing, and Dad was only a little bit confused by Harry's presence.

After dinner, Mum sent Ginny, Harry, and Ron straight to bed. It was late, Mum said, and they had to be up early for their trip to Diagon Alley the next day.

_Diagon what?_ Harry thought.

_Diagon Alley_, Ginny thought back. _It's were we go to get our school supplies and other stuff we can't get in Muggle stores. It's in London._

_Do I get to come?_

_Of course!_

_Would it be all right for me to ask your mum if we stop by my grandmother's house first, just so we know she and my aunt are okay with me going to London?_

"Mum!" Ginny called.

"Yes, dear?"

"Harry wants to make sure his grandmother and his aunt are okay with him going to Diagon Alley with us tomorrow, is that all right?"

"Of course, I was planning on asking them anyway."

Ginny smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back.

"This is weird," Ron said quietly.

"What is?"

"You two," he said. "Telepathy, and all that."

Ginny smirked at him. "You're jealous."

"Am not!"

"Are two!"

"Am not!"

"Ron, Ginny, stop that," Mum said absently. Ron crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny shrugged at Harry.

_Are you two always like that?_ Harry thought in her head.

_Mostly. It's because we're always around each other. Things will be different when we get to Hogwarts, and he gets more friends. _

_All right. Do I count?_

_As what?_

_As... as his friend?_

_Course you do! Don't worry._

Harry smiled, but Ginny knew he was still worried. He couldn't help it. He was a worry wart.

_Am not!_

Ginny laughed. Harry smiled for real. Ron gave them a confused look.

"Go on up to bed, you three," Mum said.

Ginny pushed back her chair. She picked up her dishes, as Harry picked up his, and followed her into the kitchen. She set her dishes in the sink, took Harry's, and set them down as well. They passed Ron on their way out, but Ron caught back up with them on the stairs.

"See you tomorrow?" Ginny said, standing outside her door. Harry nodded. Ginny smiled, and gave him a quick hug. She waved to Ron, and stepped inside her room.

_Haven't you ever been hugged before? _Ginny thought.

_No. It feels weird._

Ginny sighed. _Mum will hug you nonstop._

_Go to sleep._

Ginny giggled, as she heard on his side of her mind, Ron shutting the door to his room.

_I'll talk to you later, all right? _Harry said in her mind.

_Okay._

Ginny changed into her pajamas quickly, combed her fingers through her long hair quickly, and braided it. She climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Today had been very, very interesting.

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

That night, as the sliver of moon rose over the crooked house, a specter that had not been seen for ten years appeared in the fields behind the Weasley home. A woman, her skin the color of wood and hanging in wrinkles, pure white hair and yellow eyes like that of a hawk's. In one hand she held the same carved staff, and the other hand rested on the head of a lean, black wolf. A crow rested on the staff, its beady eyes fixed on the overbalanced house. If anyone were to look on, they might think that they were on a stage, observing perhaps the Scottish Play or some other representation of hags playing witches.

"So they have met," said the crow, its voice like only a crow's could be. "I told you, Chaos; I told you it would happen soon."

The wolf let out a low bark that sounded almost like a scoff. The old woman stroked his ears in an effort to appease him. The crow turned an eye on the wolf.

"Have you no response, Chaos?" the crow croaked. It seemed the crow was speaking to the wolf. The wolf, Chaos, sniffed the air. "You CAN talk now, you know, no one can see."

Chaos swished its tail and bared its teeth at the crow. The crow, however, rolled its eyes.

"Hush, Night," said the old woman. "Respect Chaos's wish to remain in his part, as you should."

The crow, Night, looked down on Chaos, and then turned its back on it, fluffing its tail feathers. Chaos seemed startled, and then offended. The old woman sighed.

"We are here with a purpose," she growled. "I will send you back if you do not behave."

Night fluffed its feathers again. Chaos growled. The old woman raised her hand, a threatening eye upon both the wolf and the crow.

"Behave," she repeated.

Chaos let out a sound that could only be described as a huff, and sat back on its haunches. Night ignored Chaos, and indeed the woman's threat. The woman sighed again, and turned her attention towards the house. Her eyes fixed on a window facing them, to the east. Her eyes narrowed, her vision focused on the window, and suddenly she could see into the room.

A young girl lay sleeping soundly in her bed. She lay facing away from the window, tucked under the blankets. The woman's withered lips turned up in a smile. Then her eyes moved up, to the window above. She saw two beds now, with two boys. One with vibrant red hair, the other with hair as dark as the wolf's pelt.

"And now, we watch," the old woman said. She conjured a chair with a wave of her hand, and sank into it. Chaos lay down at her feet, Night fluttered onto the chair's high back, and the woman lay her staff down by Chaos. The woman rested her head against the back of her chair, and closed her eyes. She concentrated, focusing on the two children lying asleep in the house, and with a rush of magic she saw their dreams, but the two powerful imaginations would not see her, for she was just looking in through a window into the world they had created in their dreams.

Both children sat by a pool, dipping their toes in the water. The old woman saw, amazed, a spectacular landscape, a waterfall pounding the pool into a rage of white water, green trees and bright vegetation gave the air that scent that only plants and fresh water could give. The children were not the only moving things, for the old woman could see, and sense, animals moving through the forest behind her. As she looked over the waterfall, a jet of steam issued from behind it. She could sense a cave, and in the cave she sensed a dragon. The water vapor fell on her ancient face, cooling her skin and reminding her of days long since past. The children sat facing her, enjoying the spray of the waterfall, chatting as though they did this everyday.

"My lord," the old woman whispered. Perhaps these two were more powerful than she thought. Certainly they were more powerful than Night had thought. The dream felt unnaturally real, as though she really were standing by a waterfall; sensing a dragon resting behind it, a nest of Phoenixes in the forest, and a herd of centaurs running through the trees some five miles away. The old woman turned her attention on the children, and her ears caught their words.

"I'm hoping for a phoenix feather in my wand," Ginevra said. "But unicorn tail hair would be nice too, I suppose."

"Would I get a wand tomorrow?" Harry said. Ginevra seemed to ponder this a moment.

"I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind," she said finally, "but I think it would depend on whether or not you've been accepted at Hogwarts. I'm sure you have, but it would be better for you to get your letter before your wand."

"Tell me about Hogwarts," Harry asked. Ginevra let out her breath slowly, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"It's amazing," she said, "or at least, I've heard it is. Bill said that in the Great Hall, where they have meals and school assemblies as stuff, the ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside. And Fred and George say that the castle's full of secret passageways and hidden doors, so you never quite know what to expect. I can't wait to go," she said with a sigh.

Harry put an arm around her. "Hey, I bet we could do something like that here," he said.

"Like what?"

"The enchanted ceiling. We could make the sky look like something."

"Yeah? What?"

Harry thought about it a moment. His eyes roamed the pool around him, searching for something. Once, his eyes passed over her, and he furrowed his brow, but moved on a second later. The old woman was not concerned. Once was fine. If he showed a reaction a second time, then she would have to worry. His eyes traveled over the animals in the area, the plants, the waterfall. The small amount of worry that she had collected when his eyes lingered on the place she stood dissipated.

But then his eyes moved back to where she stood, and locked onto hers. Suddenly, Ginny looked up and gasped. The air around the old charged with power, reacting to the two children's shock.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice careful, as though trying not to betray the annoyance she knew was beginning to bubble up inside him.

"And why are you in our dream?" Ginny snapped. She made no effort to hide her displeasure.

The old woman hesitated for a fraction of a second. She had not prepared for this. The earth at her feet gave a low growl, and began to rumble. The sky darkened and the water took on a fiercer sheen.

"I am Fate," she said finally. "And I came here to observe you."

The earth settled, and the water calmed, if only to its previous state of rage, the dark clouds faded to stormy gray. the sky paled from black to a dangerous blue, and the air remained charged with magic.

"Fate?" Harry repeated. "Like fate fate? Destiny?"

"Yes," she said. "I am the original spirit of fate."

"Is that your name?"

"No, but to speak my name now and here would shatter the world you have created, and quite possibly your minds. Names are powerful, and the more powerful the being, the more powerful the name."

"Why do you want to watch us?" Harry asked.

"I was to observe and choose the best time to give you insight into your connection."

"You know?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows raised.

Fate nodded. "I am Fate," she said. "I knew it before it began."

Both children scowled. "I hate dramatic announcements," Ginny muttered. Harry murmured a word of agreement with her.

"Will you tell us?" Harry asked.

Fate considered it a moment. The fact that Harry had been able to see her was a show of his power. The world they had created, that seemed to react to their emotions but remained under their will was impressive to say the least. But their power was not what she was looking for. They did not yet have what they needed to bear the knowledge. Fate looked over them, and sighed.

"I am afraid that the knowledge, if you were to gain it know, from me, would impair your journey," she said gravely. "You must learn it on your own."

Both seemed frustrated. The sky darkened again, and the earth growled once more. Fate decided a quick retreat was best.

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"I cannot say. I will leave you to your dreams now. Do not be surprised if you do not remember this dream when you wake."

Fate bowed to them, and, pulled herself from their dream.

"Well?" Night croaked.

Fate closed her eyes. There were times when Night got on her nerves. Now was one of them.

"They are more powerful than I imagined," Fate whispered. "Their bond is strong."

Chaos pushed himself to his feet. The wolf nuzzled her hand. She lifted her staff from the ground, and used it to pull her from the chair. As she stood, it vanished. Night gave an indignant squawk and fluttered into the air. Night gave her the evil eye as he fluttered down onto her staff. Fate gave him no apology.

"Let us go," she said. She rested a hand on Chaos's head, and, in the time it took for an eye to blink, they disappeared into the darkness.

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

Harry 

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Harry awoke to the sound of someone rummaging around in the room where he slept. Harry sat up, yawned, and saw Ron staggering on one leg as he pulled on a sock. He overbalanced, and fell onto the bed.

"Dang it," Ron muttered. He looked up, and saw Harry sitting up. "Oh, you're awake. Better get dressed. Mum let us sleep as late as she could, but we've got to leave soon. Where's my shoe?" he added, looking around

Harry sat on his bed a moment, his eyes on the window, trying to remember the dream he had last night. It had been different from most of his dreams, because something had happened that he had not been able to control. But what was it? He struggled to remember, but it stubbornly refused to come to his conscious mind. Harry sighed, pulled a clean tee shirt and jeans from his rucksack, and hastily pulled them on. By the time he had pulled on socks, his glasses, and trainers, Ron had found his left shoe, and was on his knees, digging through a box for the other one. Harry spotted it lying on the ground just beneath his bed.

"This it?" Harry asked, picking it up.

"Yes!" Ron said in relief, and Harry tossed it to him. Ron tugged it on, not bothering to do up the laces, and bounded for the door. "Come on, last one out has to wake up Ginny!"

Harry ran after him. Ron took the stairs two at a time, jumping steps every other landing and banging into the walls. Harry followed more slowly, and less hazardously. Ron laughed at him he rocketed past Ginny's door.

"Have fun waking up Ginny! She'll rip your head off probably!" Ron called back to him. Harry rolled his eyes.

On the landing to Ginny's room, Harry stopped. Ron didn't seem to notice, bounced off another wall, and jumped to the next landing. Harry fixed his eyes on Ginny's door, wondering whether to knock. He pressed his ear to the door. Was she awake? He didn't think so. He could hear her gentle breathing, through the door and through her side of his mind. He grasped the handle, and gently turned it. He stuck his head in, to see her curled up, the blankets around her waist. She was still fast asleep, dressed in a pale yellow tank top and faded striped pajama pants. One arm dangled off the edge of the bed, the other was draped over her eyes. Her red hair was contained in a long braid, which lay on her pillow, gleaming in the light of the sun, pouring in through her window.

Harry slipped inside, and crossed to her bedside on tip-toe. She looked very peaceful. He hated to wake her, but he knew she'd want to be woken sooner rather than later since they would be leaving sooner, rather than later.

He gently shook her shoulder. She groaned, and waved him away. Harry grasped her hand, and lifted her arm off her face. Sunlight hit her closed eyes, and she squinted quickly to block it.

"'M sleeping," she mumbled.

"It's time to get up," Harry said.

Ginny blearily opened one eye. "Hello, Harry," she mumbled again. She yawned widely. Then, her eyes shot open, and she yanked the blankets up to her chin. Harry jumped back, as she blushed bright pink.

"Harry!" she gasped. "What- what are you-"

"I'm only here to wake you up," he said, blushing himself now. "Ron said we've got to leave soon."

Ginny's eyes were still wide. "I- I'm my pajamas," she stammered.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So? They're not any different from your normal clothes."

Ginny was still blushing. "You're in my room, and I'm in my pajamas," she muttered.

"I'll go, if you're uncomfortable," he said.

Ginny shook her head. "No, I'm not uncomfortable. You just surprised me, that's all."

Harry shrugged. "Well, all right. I'll wait here for you while you get dressed." Then he blushed again. "I-I mean, I'll wait outside-"

"I know what you meant," Ginny said. "This awkwardness has got to go away soon, it's weird."

Harry laughed. "All right. Don't take to long, now."

He stepped back outside the room. Five minutes later, Ginny came out, now dressed in cut off jeans, and a green tee shirt. She grabbed his hand and tugged him downstairs. Harry felt a smile spread across his face as she pulled him on; he could get used to this.

When they arrived in the kitchen, they found Mrs. Weasley stroking an owl, a letter in her hands.

"Harry, dear, it's yours," she said.

"Mine?" Harry asked, frowning.

Mrs. Weasley handed him the letter. The print on the address read "Mr. H. Potter, The Burrow."

_Open it! _Ginny encouraged him in his mind. Harry pulled open the envelope. He withdrew the letter, and his eyes scanned it quickly.

_It's from Hogwarts,_ he thought.

_What's it say?_

His eyes traveled farther down the page. _I've been accepted._

Ginny let out a squeal and hugged him very tightly around the neck. He half choked, but smiled.

"What?" everyone in the kitchen called.

"Can we get Harry's school things will we're at Diagon Alley too, Mum? He's going too!" Ginny asked.

A brief look of worry flashed across her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. Both Harry and Ginny grinned.

Breakfast was noisy and amazing. When Harry offered to help clean up, Mrs. Weasley hushed him and told him to go outside with Ron and Ginny, saying it was Fred and George's day to clean the kitchen.

Bill and Charlie weren't coming to Diagon Alley. Charlie had his summer job and Bill had job interviews. Fred, George, and Percy were coming though. Percy was still oddly formal, even though his hair was still pink. Fred and George grumbled about the kitchen, but did it anyway. Ten minutes later, they were all waiting outside the car for Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley was fumbling with the car keys. "I swear, this thing is going to be the death of me," she muttered, as she found the right key for the door. The doors unlocked and Ron opened the back door.

"Youngest in the back," Mrs. Weasley said. "Percy up front with me."

Ron made a face, Percy dutifully took the passenger seat as the rest of them climbed into the back seat. Harry ended up squeezed between Fred and George, how, he didn't know. He glanced at Ginny, hoping she could save him somehow.

Ginny grinned wickedly and shook her head at him.

_You've got to learn how to stand up to them eventually,_ she thought.

_Now? _Harry thought, a little panicky.

Ginny shrugged and settled into her seat. Harry sent a silent prayer that Ginny's brothers would leave him be, and in one piece.

Mrs. Weasley started the car, and they pulled out of the driveway. George and Fred caught eyes above Harry, and then looked down at him in unison. Harry gulped.

"So, Harry Potter," they said together. Harry couldn't tell which was which still.

"Er..." he said.

"How old are you?" said the one on his left.

"Eleven next week," Harry said.

They exchanged looks.

"He is rather young," said one.

"Still, our sister worships the Boy Who Lived," said the other.

"I don't!" Ginny called hotly. She was blushing again.

_I really don't worship you, _Ginny said. _I know you're a thick little goose._

Harry smiled at her. _I know you know. Don't worry._

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley called. "Leave him alone."

They both scowled and crossed their arms over their chests. Harry mouthed 'thank you' at Mrs. Weasley, who smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. The older set of twins sulked the rest of the drive. Harry gave Mrs. Weasley the card with his grandmother's address on it, and apparently she knew the roads well enough to navigate without a map. Percy sat stiffly in the passenger seat.

"Mum, on the way back, can I sit up front?" Ron asked rather hopefully.

"Ron, it's Percy's week. You'll have to wait your turn."

Ron scowled and slumped back in the seat. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, or at least, Harry knew she rolled her eyes, as she wasn't actually looking at him.

The rest of the drive was quiet. Mrs. Weasley muttered to herself as she drove. Ginny's head drooped onto Fred's arm. Harry sat nervously, dwarfed between Ginny's brothers.

_They don't bite! _Ginny's voice teased him.

_Yes they do, you've told me,_ Harry shot back.

Ginny shrugged. _They'll get used to you._

_Until then, I'm scared._

Ginny sighed. _Don't be. I've got your back. _

She reached around Fred and squeezed Harry's hand. He smiled gratefully at her. Ron, Fred, and George all gave them a confused look.

"Oh, right," George said.

"Telepathy," Fred added.

"Strange," Ron muttered.

Ginny caught Harry's eye and grinned. He shook his head at her, but smiled back.

_What, does my amusement of their confusion amuse you? _

Harry laughed. _No, your ridiculousness amuses me._

Ginny laughed and Harry grinned. Her brothers looked further confused. Harry didn't bother to explain.

"I think this is it," Mrs. Weasley said. Harry looked to see her parking the car in front of a wide white farmhouse. He saw Thea's rusty pick-up parked in the drive.

"Harry, Ginny, if you'll come with me, please," Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny stepped over Fred's knees and pushed past George and Harry to the door. Harry followed her. They followed Mrs. Weasley up the walk to the farmhouse. Ginny's hand slipped into his and gave it a squeeze. He smiled at her. Mrs. Weasley knocked on the front door.

It opened a moment later to reveal Thea Evans, wearing a plain blue apron covered in flour stains.

"Ah, Mrs. Weasley," Thea said with a smile. "Nice to see you. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said. "We- that is to say my children and I- are heading to Diagon Alley today- do you know-"

"Yes, I know," Thea interrupted. "Continue."

"Anyway, we are going to Diagon Alley today and we wanted your permission to bring Harry along. He got his acceptance letter this morning from Hogwarts, see."

"Oh, of course it's all right with me," Thea said, "it's Petunia you'll have to worry about. Hang on a mo'." She turned back to the house. "Petunia, darling, come here please!"

Harry's aunt came to the front door with a scowl. She looked so little like the woman standing next to her, that Harry wondered how it could be that they were mother and daughter.

"What is it?" Petunia asked.

"Mrs. Weasley here says that Harry has been accepted at Hogwarts," Thea said. "She's going to Diagon Alley to get school things for her children and wants to get Harry's while she's there."

Petunia's scowl deepened. "I'm not paying for-"

"Petunia," Thea said sharply, "you won't have to. James and Lily left him money when they died. I've got the key to their vault, his parents can pay."

_That solves Mum's worries about paying for you,_ Ginny thought. Harry only nodded.

Petunia crossed her arms over her chest. "How come you got their key?"

Thea glanced at Mrs. Weasley. "Another time, dear. What do you say?"

Petunia glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be thinking it all over. Finally, she sighed. "I'll let him go, but I want to come with him."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Really?" he said. "What do you want to come for?"

"Someone's got to watch you," she snapped. "Don't ask questions!"

"I can go with them," Thea said.

"No," Petunia said. "I'll need someone to watch Dudley."

Thea sighed. "I'll go get the key," she said softly. She slipped past Petunia and into the house.

"I'm going to fetch my coat," Petunia said, and turned away. Mrs. Weasley glanced at Harry.

"Is she always like this?" Mrs. Weasley asked him in a low voice.

"Normally," Harry said with a shrug. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. He guessed she was trying not to appear judgmental.

_What's this mean then?_ Ginny thought. _What's your aunt want to come with us for?_

_I don't know._

Aunt Petunia reappeared at the door way, holding her coat and purse. She moved onto the porch with them. Thea came back a moment later, holding a small golden key in her hand.

"Here you go," Thea said, pressing the key into Harry's hand. "I haven't been inside the bank in a long time, and my memory isn't what it used to be, so I can't tell you what to expect."

"That's fine, I know," Mrs. Weasley said. "Well, we'll be gone most of the afternoon, but we'll return Petunia before dinner."

"Thank you," Thea said. "I'll see you then."

As she closed the door, we walked back to the car.

"How far is it to London?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure," Mrs. Weasley said, "but it doesn't really matter. We'll go back to the Burrow and Floo there."

_Have I told you what Floo powder is? _Ginny's voice asked.

_Er, I think so. It's the thing that lets go places by fire, right?_

_Yep, that's it._

_Okay._

"I'm sorry, Floo?" Petunia asked.

"I'll explain it on the way," Mrs. Weasley assured her. She tapped the passenger side door. "Percy, I'll need you to sit in the back," she said. Percy opened his door and solemnly transferred to the back seat. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry. He smiled at her, and climbed in after her. Fortunately, now he sat between the door and Ginny. Fred and George were on the other side of Percy. He now felt quite safe.

Mrs. Weasley spent the next five minutes explaining to Aunt Petunia what Floo powder was. The rest of the ride was silent.

Back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley parked the car and they all climbed out, Aunt Petunia not bothering to hide her disgust at the state of the place. Harry felt a sudden rush of anger towards his aunt. When he moved past her to go through the kitchen door, he accidentally on purpose stepped on her foot.

Floo travel was not so bad, since Ginny was there to guide through the steps. Percy went first, then the twins, then Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia looked very skeptical, and Mrs. Weasley practically had to shove her into the fireplace for her to go.

The shopping trip was very interesting. First was Gringotts, where the goblins were intimidating. Next was book shops and then to get robes. And then the apothecary. Aunt Petunia waited outside for that one. Then we got the rest of our stuff, until we only need a wand.

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to want to acknowledge that she had very little money to pay for things, but she did let each of her children get one thing new. Percy wanted robes, Fred and George wanted fireworks- Harry didn't want to know why- Ron asked for a broom, but Mrs. Weasley reminded him that first years weren't allowed one, so he settled for new robes too. But Ginny said she wanted a new wand. Harry didn't need to worry, as his parents had left him quite a lot, but agreed with her that a brand new magic wand was what he wanted most.

So we stood in the dark wand shop, looking around. Mrs. Weasley had turned her son's loose so they would not get in the way. Aunt Petunia sat in the corner reading a book.

The owner of the shop was called Ollivander. When he came out from the back of the shop, Harry was startled by his wide silver eyes, fixed on him.

"I was wondering when you would be visiting me, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said in a soft voice.

"Er, hello," Harry said. Ginny stifled a laugh. Mr. Ollivander turned his large misty eyes on her.

"Ah, another Weasley," he said. "The first girl in seven generations, I believe."

Ginny turned pink and nodded.

"I think you should go first," Ollivander said. "What is your wand arm, my dear?"

"Right," Ginny replied. Ollivander whispered something under his breath. He turned the back of the shop, and then returned with a long, thin box. He opened it, and held it out to her.

"Here, try. Poplar, with unicorn tail feather. Ten and a half inches."

Ginny pulled it from the box, but just as soon is it touched her fingers Ollivander snatched it from her and turned back to his wall of boxes, muttering, "No, no, that wasn't it." A minute later, he returned with another box.

"Apple and phoenix feather, twelve and a quarter inches."

But apparently that was not it either. Nor was the next, nor the next. Many wands were tried and cast aside. Harry caught woods like Cypress and Rowan and Cherry, but each was tossed onto the desk. Finally, Ollivander held out a box to her, and when she took it, he did not immediately snatch it away.

"Hawthorn," he said, "and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches. Firm."

Ginny lifted it out of the box. As her fingers closed around it, sparks shot out of the end, gathered in the air, and formed a shape. A lightning bolt. It held that shape for a second, before exploding in brightly colored sparks.

Ollivander clapped. Mrs. Weasley smiled. Ginny grinned at him. Harry grinned back, and then it was his turn.

After the tenth wand, Harry stopped paying attention to what wands he was holding. The pile on the desk was growing larger than Ginny's had been. Ollivander for some strange reason, seemed to be having fun.

"I love a tricky customer!" he said, flitting through the shelves.

After a half hour, Harry found his ears listening to what Ollivander was saying as he stood in the back.

"I wonder," he said quietly. He glanced back at Harry, then came back out. "Holly, with phoenix feather core. Eleven inches, supple. Try."

Harry took the wand from the box. Instantly, warmth spread from his fingers up his arm. Red and gold sparks shot out of the end, and, like Ginny's had, formed a shape in the air. A winged something. Harry couldn't tell what it was.

"Oh, yes, very good!" Ollivander said, beaming. "Hmm... curious."

"What's curious?" Harry asked.

Ollivander glanced at the others in the room, and then lowered his voice. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather rests in your wand gave just one other feather, and it is the core of a yew wand I sold over fifty years ago. That wand is the wand that gave you that scar."

Harry's hand shot to his hand. "My- my wand and Voldemort's wand are connected?"

Ollivander made a face. "Do not say the name, my boy, please."

"Sorry."

"But, yes, your wand and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand are brothers. Keep that in mind, Mr. Potter."

On that strange note, they paid for the two wands. They met the boys, and headed back to the Leaky Caldron. It was nearing half past five.

Mrs. Weasley left them at the Burrow while she took Aunt Petunia back to Thea's. Harry and Ginny wandered back out to the garden while Ron kept working on his room.

Ginny rested her head on his shoulder again, yawning. Harry gripped her hand.

"So, your wand and You-Know-Who's wand are brothers?" Ginny asked suddenly.

He started. "You heard?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry, for the last time, I AM IN YOUR HEAD! Of course I heard."

He nodded. "I wonder what it means."

Ginny yawned again. "I wonder too."

"Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"I'll use your words here, I'm in your head!" he said, laughing. "Don't lie."

"Fine, I'm tired."

"Go to sleep."

Ginny closed her eyes, her grip on his hand loosening. "You too, Harry. You're tired too."

He smiled at her, rested his head on hers, and let his eyes shut.


	7. Chapter 7 The First Year in a Nutshell

Seven: The First Year In a Nutshell

Ginny

The rest of the summer passed by in a flash. September First rushed headlong at the Weasley family plus one, and ended up knocking the wind out of them. The morning before they had to leave found them all rushing around, trying to get last minute packing done without incurring the wrath of Mrs. Weasley.

The ride to King's Cross was over and done with before Ginny could blink. She was past the barrier. Her mother was hugging her tightly She was on the train. She was waving good-bye to her parents. The train was pulling out of the station. And she was gone.

She sat alone with Harry in a compartment, staring out the window. Harry sat beside her, accepting her silence and providing silent comfort. She was gone, and she would not see her parents again until Christmas. Even though she had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for years, she still felt like she had left a small part of her behind.

Sometime after lunch, her head drooped onto Harry's shoulder, and she curled up on the bench.

"Is all you ever do is sleep?" Harry asked her teasingly. Ginny lightly punched his arm.

"I'm not sleeping," she said. "I'm getting comfortable."

"What, you weren't comfortable before?"

Ginny smacked him again. He moaned in fake agony, but smiled at her. She smiled back. She felt a little better now.

It did not last. Moments later, the door to their compartment slid open, and three boys strutted in, led by a boy with sleek white blonde hair.

"So," he drawled lazily, "it's true. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. "Uh, hello?"

The boy glanced at Ginny, and made a face, but turned back to Harry. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ginny made a face too. He scowled at her.

"What?" he said. "Think my name's funny, do you?"

"No, not in the least," Ginny snapped. "Go away."

Harry glanced at her.

_What are you doing?_ He thought.

_Dad's met his father, and he's a right horrible man. I highly doubt his son will be much better._

"I think you should be the one to leave," Malfoy sneered. "I know who you are. Red hair, second hand robes, freckles. You're a Weasley." The name rolled off his tongue like it was dung in his mouth.

"You got a problem with that?" Harry asked. Ginny knew Malfoy was getting on Harry's nerves.

"You ought to know that some wizard families are better than others," Malfoy said. "The Weasley's are the worst of the lot. You can do better. I can help you there."

Malfoy stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry would rather eat dung.

"In the few minutes you've been in here," Harry said slowly, "you have given me the impression that you're an arrogant, spoiled child. I'm not interested in your offer. Please leave."

Malfoy's face twisted in anger. "You'll regret that move, Potter," he said softly. He turned on his heel, and was gone. Harry sank back against the seat with a huff. Ginny squeezed his hand and lay her head on his shoulder again.

No one else bothered them the rest of the trip. When a voice announced that they would be reaching Hogwarts soon and advised them to change into their robes, Harry stepped outside so she could change, and then they traded places.

The squeal of the brakes could be heard. The train huffed and puffed as it pulled into the station.

On the platform, a large man called for all the first years to follow him. They piled into boats and floated across the lake.

The castle was large and warm and inviting. The first years filed inside, and waited for the doors to open so they could be sorted. A strict looking woman, Professor McGonagall, explained about the houses and how the sorting worked.

Ginny clutched Harry's arm as the doors opened, and Professor McGonagall led them inside. They walked past four long tables, where the rest of the students already sat. McGonagall stopped before a raised platform, by a little three legged stool on which sat a patched and ragged old hat.

Everyone was watching the hat. Ginny and Harry watched it too, curiously. Then, much to Ginny's surprise, a rip near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see.

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me!  
You can keep your bowlers black,

And your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,

And I can cap them all!

There's nothing hidden in your head

That the Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you,

Where you ought to be!

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart.

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind'

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't afraid!

You're in safe hands (though I have none),

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

And the hat fell into silence.

Professor waited for the applause to end before calling out names. Ginny wasn't really paying attention. She was thinking about the song. So when Professor McGonagall called Harry's name, she jumped. He squeezed her hand, gave her a smile, and walked up to the platform. All around her, people were whispering _'Harry Potter?' 'The Harry Potter?'_ He took the hat from McGonagall, sat down, and dropped it onto his head.

"_Well, well, well, what do we have here?"_ a voice whispered in her ear. She looked around, frowning. No one was near her, they were all staring up at Harry.

"_A joint mind,_" the voice said. _"How very interesting."_

_Uh, sorry? _Harry's voice said.

"_Come now, young miss, speak up. This is your mind just as much as it is his."_

Ginny blinked in surprise. She had not expected this.

_Hello,_ she thought.

"_There," _the Hat said. _"That's it. What is your name, young miss?"_

_Ginny._

_And this is Harry Potter, of course. Your mind is much like your mother's, Harry._

_It is?_ Harry thought.

"_Yes. Now, to sort you two. I can't read Ginny's mind right from here, so I will sort Harry and then Ginny will wait her turn like the rest. It would be best if the school did not realize what it is you two have just yet."_

_Okay, _Ginny thought.

The Hat was silent a moment. Then, it spoke again. _"You have a very powerful mind, Harry Potter. I see great potential in you, bravery and loyalty, intelligence and ambition. But I think the two houses you are most fit for are Gryffindor and Slytherin. What say you?"_

_Didn't Slytherin turn out to be mostly bad wizards? _Harry thought, and Ginny knew it was aimed towards her.

_Well, yeah, _she answered.

"_It is true," _the Hat said. _"But it has also turned out many great wizards in the past."_

_I don't want evil._

"_Of course you don't. Slytherin is not evil. Many Slytherin students chose that path, yes, but not all. And regardless of their morals, every student had great power, much like yourself."_

Ginny was silent, but she could hear Harry thinking. She kept her thoughts quiet, not wanting to influence him.

"_I think you would flourish in Slytherin,"_ the Hat said.

_I don't. I don't want Slytherin,_ Harry said. Ginny let out a sigh of relief.

"_Are you sure? You are destined to be great indeed, and Slytherin would aide you in ways no other house could."_

_No._

"_If you insist."_

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat yelled for the whole hall to hear. The table behind her erupted in cheers. Harry pulled off the Hat and grinned at Ginny. She grinned back as he handed McGonagall the hat. As he passed her, he touched her shoulder with a smile of reassurance.

The line emptied slowly. But, soon, McGonagall called out "Weasley, Ginevra."

Ginny winced. She hated her full name.

_Your real name is Ginevra?_ Harry thought as she walked up to McGonagall.

_Yeah, but I never use it. I don't like it._

_I think it sounds pretty. _

The blush that crept up her cheeks was not because she tripped on a step on her way to the stool. She took the hat from McGonagall, and seated herself on the stool.

"_Ah, Ginny, you have returned. Very good. I got a fairly good reading when Harry was wearing me, so this should not take long. I assume you wish to be in the same house as he is?"  
_

_Yes._

"_Are you sure? You do have the potential to be in Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff."_

_Gryffindor, I'm sure._

"_I see. You won't even consider others?"_

_I want to be in Gryffindor with Harry._

"_Very well."_

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted. Ginny beamed as her brothers all cheered for her, but as Harry cheered, a warm feeling spread through her. Even though Fred and George made a space for her to sit between them, she dropped down beside Harry.

_Knew you'd make it,_ Harry thought with a grin.

_They why were you biting your fingers and panicking?_ Ginny thought back teasingly. That shut him up for a good five minutes.

Dinner was amazing; she ate so much that Harry teased her that her robes would not fit her. She punched him lightly and returned the compliment.

Dumbledore gave a few announcements, including a ban on going in the Third Floor corridor, which she found odd, and sent them off to bed.

The first few weeks of school were great, even though they were hard. They jumped right into learning, and half their time was taken up with homework. In October, Harry was inducted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team, even though he'd only ever ridden a broom once. Malfoy had hoped that he would get in trouble, but he was disappointed. Ginny felt like punching Malfoy when he challenged Harry to a duel and didn't show up. She kept that nugget of information to use for later blackmail. And, when they- they being herself, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville- ran from Filch when Malfoy didn't show, they ended up in the Forbidden Corridor, right in front of a three headed dog. Needless to say, they were out of breath and scared near witless when they got back to the common room.

By the time Halloween rolled around, both Ginny and Harry were looking around to figure out where the time went. Halloween night brought on excitement, because a troll got into the dungeons. Ron, Harry, and Ginny ran off to go save Hermione, and ended up getting only ten points for Gryffindor.

Harry was a wreck of nerves before the first game, but he did amazing. Nearly swallowed the Snitch but Gryffindor won. But during the game, Ginny nearly had a heart-attack when his broom suddenly tried to buck him off. Hermione fixed it by setting Snape on fire, but she still had to pinch her cheeks before she went to congratulate Harry so she didn't look white as a sheet.

Time flew again. Before either Ginny or Harry could look up, Christmas was charging them head on. Ginny wrote home two weeks before Christmas begging her mother to save her because she'd forgotten to get Harry a gift. A few days later, her mum sent her a reply telling her that she had made Harry a sweater and was giving him the normal gift of pies and candies. Ginny's panic lessened but she still didn't have a gift for him. Then Mum sent her a catalog and some money, and she bought him a new pair of Seeker gloves.

Christmas morning, Ginny woke up to Harry practically shouting in her brain.

_WAKE UP! I'VE GOT PRESENTS!_

Even thought Ginny was still half asleep, she smiled. Harry had never gotten presents on Christmas. He sounded shocked, excited, and amazed. She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, but Harry woke her up again.

_Meet me down in the common room so we can open our presents_, he thought.

_Sleep..._ she thought in a mumble.

_Presents!_

Ginny sighed, and sat up slowly. She had a pile of presents at the bottom of her bed too.

_I'm bringing Ron, you drag Hermione out of bed._ Ever since Halloween, Hermione had joined their group, and the four of them were inseparable.

_Fine, but I'm blaming you if Hermione hexes me._

_That's okay, just come downstairs!_

Ginny rolled her eyes, swung her legs out of bed, and shoved her feet in her slippers.

"Hermione!" she called.

"Go back to sleep," Hermione mumbled. They were the only ones in the dorm, since most people had gone home for the holidays. Ginny had stayed because Harry wasn't going, her brothers had stayed because their parents were visiting Charlie, and Hermione stayed because her parents were going to a dentisty or something conference, and she wasn't particularly interested in dentisty.

Ginny poked her head through Hermione's curtains. Hermione lay on her side, hugging one of her pillows and curled up in a ball. Ginny nudged her shoulder.

"Come on, we're going to open presents in the common room," Ginny said.

"Why?" Hermione whined.

"Because this is the first Christmas that Harry's got presents and I want to see his face when he opens them. Get up."

Hermione rolled onto her back and glared at Ginny. "This is your fault," Hermione growled.

"Nope, blame Harry."

Ten minutes later, Ginny and Hermione- still yawning- made their way downstairs with their presents. They found Ron sitting in an arm chair, vibrating like he was a dog wanting to chase a squirrel as he stared at his pile of presents before him, and Harry sitting on the couch. Harry jumped to his feet when they entered the room. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry dropped back to the couch blushing. Hermione giggled. Ginny rolled her eyes again, but smiled at Harry.

The instant she and Hermione were seated, Ron tore into his presents. Ginny was used to his frenzy on Christmas morning, and Harry had heard about it from her, but Hermione had never seen him. She stared in shock a moment, before opening her own presents.

Harry opened each of his presents with care. Ginny was almost too focused on her friend to open her own presents, but managed it. Harry beamed as he opened the gifts from her mother, and grinned wider when he unwrapped the gloves she'd given him.

"Open that one next," Harry told her, pointing to a medium sized box near the bottom of her pile. Curious, Ginny extracted it without toppling her pile. She pulled aside the paper, and gasped. She pulled out a wooden box. She ran her fingers over the flowers and dragons carved on the lid, and lifted it open. There was a mirror inside the lid, but she was more interested in the picture tucked inside. It was a photo of her, Ron, Hermione, and Harry, all grinning madly and waving.

"Like it?" Harry asked.

"It's amazing," she said, beaming at him. "Thank you!"

A while later, Ron, Hermione, and she had finished their presents. Harry had only one left, and everyone was watching him, wondering what was in the unmarked package. He tore open the paper, and shook out a cloak.

This was no ordinary cloak though. Ginny watched it fall open like a jug of water turning over and spilling its contents over the floor. The cloak shimmered in the half-light pouring through the windows and glimmered in the glow of the fire. Ginny reached out a hand and felt the fabric. It did feel like water, softer than any silk she could imagine.

"What is it?" Ron asked in a low voice.

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth, her face registering shock.

"What?" Harry said, frowning.

"That- I think, oh, Harry!" Hermione said, obviously at a loss for words. "Try it on, if it's what I think it is- put it on!"

Harry glanced at Ginny, and shrugged. He swung the cloak around his shoulders, and suddenly he vanished.

Ginny gasped and shot to her feet. Ron let out a yelp and knocked his chair over. Harry looked down at his body, but it wasn't there anymore.

"It's an invisibility cloak!" Hermione said, "I was right!"

"Look, something fell out," Harry said. His head bent down and lowered, Ginny guessed he was now squatting, and a slip of parchment was lifted into the air as though on its own. Ginny shivered. It was creepy, and awesome.

"'Your father left this in my possession before he died,'" Harry read aloud. "'It is time it was returned to you. A very merry Christmas to you.' No signature. Huh, wonder who it was," he said, looking down at the paper with a frown.

Ginny stepped forward, staring open-mouthed at the floating head of her best friend. She reached out, and poked what she guessed to be his chest, since she couldn't see him.

"Ow," he said pointedly, dropping the note onto a table.

"You're invisible," Ginny muttered. A grin broke her face. "We are so pranking Fred and George with this!"

Hermione made a noise as if to argue her statement, but Ginny flicked her wand over her shoulder and Hermione found herself unable to talk due to the fact that Ginny had conjured a gag over Hermione's mouth.

"Will it fit over two?" Ginny asked. Harry lifted the cloak, revealing his body, and grabbed her arm. He threw it over her too, and Ginny found herself standing very close to him and invisible. She could see Ron tugging at the gag, and Hermione looking around to see where they had gone. Harry had pulled the cloak over his head, so they were both completely invisible. Her heart thumped in her chest. Harry's breath fell on her face.

_What charm did you use?_ Harry thought as Ron and Hermione started looking around the room for them.

_Praeligus charm. Fred and George taught it to me._

_Nice_, Harry thought. _Teach me?_

_Of course._

Harry grinned. She grinned back.

The cloak was tugged off them by a very not amused Hermione.

"That's enough of that," she said. "Come on, it's lunch time."

That night, Ginny was half asleep when Harry's voice startled her so badly, she fell out of bed.

_Ginny, wake up!_

Rubbing her bum, and a glower on her face, Ginny rose to her feet. _It is bloody half past one. WHAT?_

_Geez, no need to be irritated. I want to show you something._

Ginny sighed. An image of Harry sticking out his bottom lip, clasping his hands together below his chin, and his eyes wide made her smile. He rarely resorted to using his begging face on her, whatever it was had to be important.

_Fine, but promise to let me sleep past nine tomorrow._

_Deal!_

Ginny grabbed her robe, slippers, and wand and hurried down to the common room. Hermione slept on.

_Harry?_ She thought, looking around for him.

Suddenly, something grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. She let out a yelp of surprise, and found herself standing next to Harry beneath his brand new invisibility cloak.

"Come on," he whispered, still holding her arm.

Ginny glared at him. "Don't do that again," she chided him.

He shrugged. "Come on, I have to show you what I found!"

His hand moved from her arm to grasp her hand, and he pulled her from the common room, through the halls, down stairs, until she had no idea where they were, and stopped before an opened door.

They were both panting, but Harry pulled her through the door before she could catch her breath.

It looked like an unused classroom. All the desks had been pushed up against the walls, there was dust floating in the moon's glow. But what caught Ginny's eye was the huge mirror leaning against the opposite wall.

_Harry,_ she thought, since she was still too winded to speak, _we are still wearing the cloak, right?_

"Yeah," Harry panted.

_Then why can I see us in that mirror?_

Harry shrugged again. He pulled her forward, until they stood right before it.

"I saw something in the mirror," he said, looking at her. "And I just had to show you."

Ginny glanced at the mirror. _Show me what?_

Harry let out a little groan. "Can you please talk?" he said.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. _Why?_

_Because I like to hear- _"Never mind," his voice interrupted his thought. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and he blushed.

"You like to hear what?"

"Forget it. I want to tell you what I saw."

Ginny sighed. She'd get it out of him later. "What is it?"

"Well, look!"

She looked at the mirror, at her confused expression and Harry's eager one. "I only see us."

"Look at it properly, here, I'll move." Harry pulled the cloak off her and stepped back. She glanced at him, and saw him reappear by one of the desks, dropping the cloak onto it. She glanced back at the mirror, and clapped her hands to her mouth.

"What?"

She was looking at herself now, but Harry was still standing by her. She glanced around, and Harry was standing by the desk. Slowly, she lowered her hands.

"What does this mirror do?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. But when I stood in front of it earlier, I saw my parents, Ginny. And a bunch of other people that looked like the rest of my family." Then his cheeks colored, and Ginny frowned at him. She saw the image that came with the memory Harry was focusing on. Him standing before the mirror, looking on in shock, at a room full of people. A dark haired man with glasses and a woman with red hair like hers. And her, standing beside him with her hand in his.

Ginny glanced back at the mirror. Harry by the desk watched her curiously. Harry in the mirror smiled and took her hand.

"Harry," she said softly. "I don't see your family..."

His shoulders shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't. Do you see your family?"

She shook her head, and, deciding there was no point in not telling him, she said "I only see us."

Harry frowned. "But I'm over here."

Ginny nodded. "I noticed."

She glanced down at Mirror Harry's hand holding hers. Her eyes flicked between the two faces, as the Harry in the mirror leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her hand flew to her cheek.

"What?"

Real Harry walked back over, and then there were two Harry's standing on either side of her.

"I- it- but-" she stammered. Harry frowned at her. Wordlessly, she thought of the image of mirror Harry leaning down and kissing her cheek; it was the only way to convey her surprise. Harry blushed scarlet. Ginny realized with a start she was too.

"Well, it doesn't show family," Harry said, still blushing.

"Quite right you are, Mr. Potter."

The two children jumped around, Ginny with her wand drawn. Sitting on one of the desks in the corner by the door, was Professor Albus Dumbledore.

He slipped off the desk and approached them, a twinkle in his eye.

"It shows neither the past nor the future," he said. "Take a look at the inscription."

Ginny turned, and her eyes flew over the words carved into the metal frame. Her eyes darted over it again, the gears in her brain turning. It didn't look like Latin, maybe Irish? She'd seen a letter from one of her mum's friends written in Irish, and this looked similar. But, as her eyes went from the end back to the beginning, she noticed something.

The very last word was 'erised'. But when her eyes moved over it in the other direction, it looked like 'desire'.

_You getting what I'm getting? _Harry thought.

_It's backwards?_

_Like in a mirror._

Ginny nodded absently, and ran her eyes over the words again, this time end to beginning. The words had been jumbled up and scrambled, but, with Harry's input, she translated the simple sentence into English.

"I show you not your face but your heart's desire," she said, turning back to Dumbledore. He smiled, a smile of pride, at her. She'd seen a similar smile on Fred and George's face when she'd turned all of Ron's underwear into the classic cartoon white with red hearts boxers. Harry caught her eye and raised an eyebrow at the image that had popped up with it. She explained quickly, and he stifled a snort.

"It is indeed," Dumbledore said. If he noticed Harry's snort, he did not acknowledge it. "This is called the Mirror of Erised. I trust you now know what it does?"

Ginny looked back at the mirror, and thought of Harry holding her hand. She'd held his hand before. It wasn't all that special. But that kiss... It had felt strange, even if she'd only seen it, but a good kind of strange. 'I show you not your face but your heart's desire'... It had shown her standing side by side with Harry, and it had shown Harry his family and her. She set her mind working. Harry had never had people who cared about him until he met her family, until he met her. He wanted someone to care about him. He had seen his family, so the inscription had to mean that it showed the onlooker what their heart wanted most.

_Why aren't you in Ravenclaw again?_

_Shut up._

_Yes ma'am._

"It shows us what we want most," she said aloud. Dumbledore beamed at her.

"That it does," he said. "The deepest desire of our hearts, even if we have not yet realized what it is."

She could have sworn his eyes rested on her when he said that.

Before she knew it, Christmas holidays were over and school was back to bother her. January flew by in a flurry of snow, February rushed them with a load of lacy pink paper and giggles, March took its time stopping the snow, April showed clearer skies and warmer weather, and before she knew it, it was May and her birthday choose to smack her upside the head with a two-by-four. On the morning of the eleventh, Ginny was expecting a lie-in because it was Saturday, but apparently, Harry had other ideas.

_WAKE UP!_

Like she had on Christmas, Ginny gave a startled gasp and fell off the side of the bed.

_Quit that, you're going to hurt yourself._

_You try having someone scream inside your head while their sleeping!_

_Okay, gimme a second to fall asleep, then you can yell._

Ginny smacked her forehead with her palm.

"Ginny, are you okay?" called one of her roommates, Lavender Brown.

"Fine," Ginny called back. _See what you did? You woke up Lady Lavender._

_And here I was thinking only a hurricane could. I feel so accomplished. _Ginny rolled her eyes at his sarcasm and stood.

_What did you want?_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_

_STOP YELLING! What?_

_I said happy birthday._

_It's my birthday?_

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. Ginny glanced around and spotted a calender by Hermione's bed. Hermione had gone somewhere already, so her bed was empty and made. Ginny scrambled over to the calender, and her eyebrows shot up when she saw the date. May 11th, her birthday.

_Wow, I forgot my own birthday._

_Seriously? How do you do that?_

_Guess it's easy when Mum isn't pestering me about what I want to do._ A second later, she realized her mistake. _I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot-_

_Yeah, it's easy to do that._ He didn't sound angry with her. _It's okay. _Relieved, Ginny turned to her trunk and pulled out clothes. She dress at top-speed, forgot shoes, and ran downstairs, nearly knocking Harry over when she came rocketing from the girls' dorms.

"Sorry," she said, blushing. For some reason, she had been blushing more around him ever since Christmas.

"It's okay," he said again. "Come on, I got Fred and George to tell me how to get into the kitchens. We are going to have a good Saturday brunch."

"Ron and Hermione coming?"

"Nah, I gave Ron his present earlier. I wanted to give you yours in private."

Ginny fought down images of just what could happen in private, and, after cursing whatever part of her mind that had brought them up, she prayed Harry hadn't seen them. Harry grabbed her hand- he'd been doing that more often since Christmas- and pulled her from the common room.

When he finally stopped dragging her, they stood in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. He reached up and tickled the pear. It giggled- could pears giggle?- and turned into a large door-knob. Harry turned it, and led her into the kitchen.

The kitchen was alive and bustling with house elves. They seemed to expect her and Harry because they surrounded them and led them over to a small table set up by a fireplace. Harry gave a low mock bow, and Ginny laughed.

"All this for me?" she said, taking a seat.

"My best friend deserves the best birthday."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. Harry grinned at her and dropped into a chair. House elves swarmed them again and plates with pancake stacks were set down before them, drowning in delicious smelling boysenberry syrup.

Ginny did not hesitate to eat her fill. After the plates had been cleaned, Ginny propped her elbows up on the table and looked at Harry, who for some reason didn't want to meet her eye.

_What's up?_ She thought warily.

_Can't I give my best friend a great birthday?_

_You only use the best friend card when you're hiding something. What's up?_

Harry sighed. "You got me."

"Course I did. I know everything about you."

He nodded. "You really are my best friend though," he said.

She blushed. "I know," she said. "You're mine."

"Yeah, I know."

"So what's this about?"

Harry propped his chin on his hand, looking at her. His intense green eyes were full of something she had never seen there before.

"I'm going past the trapdoor," he said suddenly.

Her eyebrows shot up. "You're what?"

"I'm going down the trapdoor. Snape will steal the stone if I don't."

Ginny stared at him a moment. Then she reached across the table, grabbed his hand, and gave it a squeeze. "You mean we."

His eyes lit up. "It will be dangerous."

"Danger is my middle name."

"I thought it was Molly?"

"Don't change the subject," she said, shaking a finger at him. "I can hold my own in a fight, you know that."

He did know. The two of them were tied for best marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"It won't be easy."

"I'll live. I'm going with you."

_I can't convince you to stay behind?_

"No."

Harry nodded slowly. "Knew it. I told Ron you wouldn't stay behind, but he wanted me to try."

"Ron's in on it?"

"Yeah, I had to tell him. Not mad I told him first, are you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Not really."

Harry squinted at her. "What?" she said.

"I'm trying to decide whether you've been taken over by a Martian or a a unicorn."

She laughed. "When are we going down?"

"I can't be sure, so stay on your guard."

They didn't go after the Sorcerer's Stone that night, not even that week. By the time exams came around, they still had not chased it down, so Ginny was beginning to wonder if they were going at all. But the last day of exams, Harry came to her with a look of determination.

_Tonight,_ he thought.

Ginny squeezed his hand. _Tonight._

That night, she, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were crowded under the invisibility cloak. Ginny still felt guilty for hexing Neville, but he couldn't stop them.

Harry played his wooden flute to lull Fluffy to sleep. They jumped past the trapdoor, and landed in devil's snare. Hermione beat it by conjuring fire. Then they had to fly on brooms to catch a flying key, Hermione stayed on the ground for that one. Then, giant chess, and Ron led them to victory. But he was injured pretty bad, so Hermione stayed back to care for him. She and Harry moved on. They passed a knocked out troll and pinched their noses, and went on to the next rom.

The instant they passed over the threshold, purple flames sprung up in front of the door and black flames before the next. A table stood with seven bottles and a roll of parchment on it. She and Harry moved towards it warily.

Ginny unrolled the parchment.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Ginny's eyes flew over the paper, and she let out a sigh.

"Logic," she muttered. "Why logic?"

"What?"

"It's a logic problem," she said. "Here."

Harry read the paper quickly. "Okay, how do we do it?"

Ginny took the paper back and spread it across the table. Seven total, one would take them forward, one would take them back, two were nettle wine, three were poisons. The poisons would be on the wine's left, the ones on the end would not bring a person forward, the biggest bottle and the smallest bottle were not poisons, and the second on the left and the second on the right looked different, but tasted the same. The second on the left and right seemed to be the wine, which meant that the poison would be to the left of them, so the left end was poison. The bottle to the very left of the second on the right, which was the biggest, was most likely poison. The one on the right end was not going to move someone forward, but it was also not a poison nor a nettle wine, so it had to be the one that took you back. The smallest was to the very right of a nettle wine, and it was also not a poison, which had to mean that it was the one that brought someone back.

_Again, you should be in Ravenclaw._

Ginny smiled at Harry. She picked up the two potions, and looked at them worriedly.

"It looks like only enough for one person," she said, looking at the bottle to move a person forward. She glanced at Harry, and sighed.

"I've got to go on," Harry said. Ginny nodded.

"Just be careful," she told him. She took the potion to go back, he took the one to go forward, and, together, they downed the contents.

Ginny watched Harry cross the flames, and, for the first time in her life, she couldn't hear his voice in her mind.

When she, Ron, and Hermione got back out to the school, they ran into Dumbledore, who didn't even pause to ask why they were out of bed. He just asked "He's gone after it, hasn't he?" and ran off.

Ginny refused to return to the tower, or even go to the Hospital Wing, and waited outside the door to the corridor for Dumbledore and Harry to return. She still could not hear Harry's voice in her head. When they did, Harry was unmoving and silent in Dumbledore's arms. Ginny nearly had a heart attack, until Dumbledore assured her that he was just unconscious.

Ginny would not leave his bedside in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore let her off classes while she waited for her best friend to wake up. She held his hand and begged him to open his eyes. Madam Pomfrey had fixed his physical injuries in a heartbeat, but said she could not be sure how his mind had been affected until he woke. Ginny prayed that he would still be fine when he finally woke up.

Three days after they had gone down the trapdoor, Ginny was slumped in a chair, her fingers loosely clasped around Harry's, asleep, when Harry opened his eyes.

_Gin?_

Ginny started, to see Harry's eyes open, unfocused, and looking at her.

"Harry!" she gasped, and flung her arms around his neck.

"Whoa, don't strangle me!" Harry said, patting her back. Ginny pulled back, suddenly angry.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she snapped. "You hear me? Never!"

"Wait, what? What did I do?"

Ginny hugged him again. "I thought you would never wake up," she mumbled in his ear. Harry was silent a moment, then he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I won't," he said. "I promise."

Ginny sank back in her chair, blinking back tears of relief. "I couldn't hear you," she said. "After you passed through the fire, I couldn't hear your thoughts."

"I know, I couldn't hear you. I nearly panicked."

Ginny let out a small chuckle. "You're a goose, you know," she said.

"Oh, I'm hurt," Harry said sarcastically.

Ginny laughed.

The rest of the year passed quickly. All too soon, the Leaving Feast was over and they were boarding the train. She and Harry sat with her twin, Hermione, and Neville on the ride back to King's Cross.

Ginny ran to hug her mother when they left the platform, and her father too. Hermione left to find her parents after hugging Ginny and telling her and the boys to have a good summer. Harry, almost shyly, hugged her good-bye, and walked over to where his aunt stood waiting for him with his shoulders slumped.

_You'd better come visit me,_ Ginny thought. Harry turned back to her, and smiled.

_You know I will._

And then, he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8 The Chamber Condensed

A/N: Somebody suggested I have the diary prey upon someone else and then have both Harry and Ginny save the new victim. Well, I considered this, but decided to go ahead and have Ginny be the victim of the diary. My reasons for this are fairly simple.

One: Tom greatly influenced Ginny's character. If she had not been sucked into the diary, she would be an entirely different person, with entirely different strengths and different personality. People find their true power through trials and suffering, not sunshine and Quidditch games; Ginny needs the power that comes from being possessed by Tom.

Two: Harry might have 'moral fiber', but he does not have a death wish. In the book, Harry went to save Ginny because she was his best friend's sister. In this story, he goes to save her because she is his best friend. If it had just been a random person, I doubt Harry would have gone after them, even if he is a good person.

That being said, here is Chapter Eight.

Eight: The Chamber Condensed

Harry

That summer, Harry stayed at his grandmother's farm. Aunt Petunia was out almost every day, looking for a new place and a job, and Dudley spent all of his time indoors, but Harry was outside every day. Thea drove him to the Burrow in the mornings, and Mrs. Weasley drove him back in the evenings, or he just stayed with them. Aunt Petunia grew nicer with each day, even coming to tell him good night when he wasn't at the Burrow. He and Ginny puzzled over it, and decided that his grandmother was a good influence on his aunt. Uncle Vernon would phone once a day, and never got an answer. Aunt Petunia actually had to restrain Thea from picking up the phone and giving her 'no good son-in-law' a piece of her mind.

One evening, he was in his room at his grandmother's, reading a book Ron had lent him on the Chudley Cannons, when a loud CRACK startled him into dropping the book.

Before him stood the strangest creature he had ever seen. It was three feet tall, had leathery green skin, enormous green eyes, ears like a bat's, and was dressed in a dirty cloth that resembled a pillowcase.

He said his name was Dobby, he was a house-elf, and he was there to warn him to not return to school. Harry flatly refused to not go back to Hogwarts. Dobby begged and begged him, but Harry would not budge. Eyes watering, the house-elf vanished with another loud CRACK.

A few days later, Mrs. Weasley took him, Ginny, her brothers, and his aunt to Diagon Alley to get their school things. He, Ron, and Ginny wondered why Aunt Petunia insisted on coming again, because all she did was look like she didn't want to be there. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if she was there because she missed magic, but he abandoned the theory when she turned her nose up at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

When September First rolled around, Harry had noticed something odd in the his aunt looked at him. Like she was feeling both guilty and angry at the same time. By then he had also noticed that Ginny was looking at him funny too. Sometimes he'd catch her thinking about him, but not to him, and when he asked about it, she would tell him to mind his own business. To be honest, it did sound like his business, since she was thinking about him, but he didn't dare bring it up. He didn't want to risk a fight.

On the morning of September First, Harry was staying with the Weasley's. They agreed to take him to King's Cross with them, so he found himself in their car, looking out the back window and wondering when he'd see the Burrow again.

Of course he was back five minutes later. And five minutes after that. First, Fred forgot his fireworks. Then George his broomstick. Then, just as they were about to pull out onto the main road, Ginny shrieked in Harry's ear that she'd forgotten her diary. He asked her when she even got the diary, but she didn't answer.

They pulled into King's Cross and quarter to eleven. They all rushed to the barrier, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny ended up the last ones to go. But, when Harry tried to get past the barrier, it wouldn't let him through.

So that was how he found himself back in the car with Ron flying it to Hogwarts.

They crashed into a tree, and got detention. Hermione was cross with them, the other students were impressed, and both Ron and Ginny received a Howler from their mum a week later.

First term started out excellently, Harry found himself thinking sarcastically.

As the year moved on, Ginny started spending less and less time with him, Ron, and Hermione. She spent hours holed up in her dorm or the library, and there were times when Harry couldn't even hear her voice in his mind.

Round Halloween, Harry's worry turned into panic.

He was at Sir Nicholas' death-day party, having Ginny tease him about the feast he'd left behind, when suddenly, he couldn't hear her anymore. He panicked, and ran flat out up to the Great Hall, but she wasn't there anymore. Percy said she'd gone back up to the Tower, said she wasn't feeling right. And then, he heard a voice.

"_Come, come, let me rip you, let me tear you... let me kill you..."_

His panic growing greater and greater with each second, he followed the voice, Ron and Hermione running after him.

He stopped on the second floor, staring in horror at a wall painted with ominous warning and the frozen body of Mrs. Norris.

Dumbledore kept him, Ron, and Hermione a while after that, and when they got to leave, he still could not hear Ginny.

He finally found her, slumped on a couch in Gryffindor Tower, over a little black book.

"Ginny!" he said in relief, shaking her awake.

"What?" she said, blinking up at him. "What's up?"

"I couldn't hear you!" he said. "I was talking to you, and halfway through a sentence you vanished!"

"What?" she said. "Look, I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

And she left, leaving Harry on the couch very confused.

Christmas brought the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione with a tail, and Ginny's absence from Harry's mind for longer periods of time. Each time she vanished from his head, his worry and panic grew, but when he found her, she would snap at him and leave him confused and hurt.

Easter came and went. Ginny was growing more and more irritable, and Harry found himself feeling utterly helpless and hopeless with each harsh word they traded. Then, he found that little black book that she seemed to be carrying everywhere in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It was a diary, and it was blank.

Two days later, his dorm room was ransacked, and it was gone. But before it was taken, he found out something. The diary had belonged to a boy called Tom Riddle, and he had been the one to solve the Chamber of Secrets fifty years before. Hagrid had been guilty. Hermione was attacked, and Harry felt even worse. Hagrid was arrested, Dumbledore was forced out, he and Ron were nearly killed by giant spiders, and Ginny didn't seem to care. He was the Heir of Slytherin, he could speak Parseltongue, and Ginny felt no emotions for him. The dreams he used to share with her, the worlds and universes they imagined in their sleep fell into disarray. His heart was breaking, and he couldn't figure out why she wasn't interested in being his friend anymore.

Exams came and Harry grew even more panicky. He tried his best to get Ginny to tell him what was wrong, but she just turned her back on him and ignored him. Fred and George tried, Percy even stepped in to lecture her on the importance of staying true to her friends in this troubled time, but she stubbornly remained distant.

Then, Ginny was taken into the Chamber. Ron and Harry ran to tell Lockhart, who was supposed to go rescue her, all they knew, and found him about to run. They took him to the Chamber entrance, and Harry opened it with Parseltongue.

Lockhart tried to Obliviate them, and caused a cave-in, which meant that Harry had to go on alone.

He found her, lying at the foot of a forty foot statue.

"Ginny!" he cried, half in relief, half in horror when he saw her pale and unmoving body. He dropped his wand, and fell to his knees beside her. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was still. Her hands were clasped over the little black diary. "Wake up, please! Wake up!"

"She won't wake."

Harry turned around with a gasp, to see a tall, handsome teenage boy standing behind him, twirling a wand between his fingers. But he wasn't really there. His outline was blurred, and the lines that formed his body were imprecise.

"Tom?" Harry said. "Tom Riddle?"

Tom Riddle smiled at him.

"What do you mean she won't wake?" Harry asked, glancing down at Ginny. A sudden feeling of even worse panic filled him. "She's not- She isn't-"

"She's still alive," said Tom Riddle, "but just barely."

Harry slipped his arms under her back, trying to lift her up. "Please, Tom, you've got to help me!" he said as his arms and legs trembled under Ginny's limp weight.

Tom just smiled. "There's no point," he said. "You see, as little Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger."

Harry found that his scrawny form couldn't hold her up any longer, and he collapsed onto the ground. "What do you mean?"

"Little Ginny Weasley has been writing in my diary for almost a year now," Tom said. "She poured her heart and soul into me, and after a while, I started pouring a bit back into her. I was able to take over her body, make her do things that she didn't want to do. She opened the Chamber, and petrified those students and the caretaker's cat. I forced her to write that message on the wall. I made her open the Chamber and attack the mudbloods."

"No," Harry whispered. "She- she wouldn't-"

Tom let out a cold, unfeeling laugh. "She fought me, of course. She didn't want to do it, but I had control of her. She could not resist me."

"But- but what are you doing to her?"

"I am feeding off her energy, and once I finish, I will be strong again."

"But you'll kill her!"

"Yes, I know that."

"No!" Harry said, shooting to his feet. "I won't let you!"

Tom Riddle laughed his cold laugh. Harry noticed with a jolt that the wand in Tom's hand was his. "You won't let me? You? A twelve year old boy with no remarkable talent, stop me, the greatest wizard of all time?"

"Dumbldedore is the greatest wizard of all time!"

Tom's blurry face twisted with anger. "Dumbledore has been driven out by the mere memory of me! Me, the one to become the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort!"

"You're- you're Voldemort?"

"I am!" Tom boasted. He raised Harry's wand, and drew in the air three words, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He gave the wand a flick, and the letters rearranged themselves to say 'I am Lord Voldemort'. A stone dropped in Harry's stomach. Tom's lips twisted in a sick smile. "I have many questions for you, Harry Potter. Ginny told me you supposedly defeated me, but she did not know how. So, how is that a baby managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?"

"I told you," Harry said, his hands shaking, "Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of all time."

Tom's face became less handsome as anger moved his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but he froze. Music had filled the cavernous Chamber. Both Harry and Tom started, looking around to see where it was coming from. It was unnatural, eerie, but it filled Harry with a sense of hope, and from the look on Tom's face, it filled him with fear.

The music swelled, it's unearthly sound echoing through the Chamber, and as it reached a peak, a burst of flame appeared above their heads. A bird formed in the flames, fluttering on its red feathered wings, and clutching a ragged bit of cloth in its glinting talons. The bird flew down, dropped the ragged cloth at Harry's feet, and landed on his shoulder.

"Fawkes?" Harry breathed. The bird's talons squeezed his shoulders briefly. Harry bent and picked up the ragged cloth, and shook it out. It was the Sorting Hat. Tom laughed, putting on a brave face, but Harry saw in his eyes that the fear the song had inspired in him still lingered.

"So this is what Dumbledore sends his great defender!" Tom laughed, sneering at Harry and Fawkes. "A songbird and an old hat."

Harry felt a twinge of disappointment, along with a boatload of fear. How was a hat going to help him?

"Poor Ginny," Tom said, clucking his tongue, "she was so certain that great, brave Harry Potter was going to come and rescue her."

And then, anger surged in Harry. His hands shook as he held the hat, the edges of his vision tinted red, and the little stones and pebbles along the stone floor began to vibrate. Tom suddenly looked alarmed, but he quickly masked it. Fawkes' talons dug into his shoulder as the great bird flapped its wings and took off into the air.

"You can talk all you want, but there's no way I'll just stand by and let you kill Ginny! I'll die first!" Harry shouted.

"Harry, Harry," Tom sighed. "You make an offer I cannot refuse."

Harry frowned. What offer? And then it dawned on him. _"I'll die first."_

Tom was striding up to the statue, and then he was speaking in Parseltongue tongue at it. Harry remembered with horror what creature was supposed to be in the Chamber. A basilisk.

The dirty great snake slithered out of the statue's mouth. Harry was forced to run from Ginny, whose closed eyes would protect her from it, to hide. Tom ordered the snake to kill him. Harry ducked behind a pillar, when he heard a animal's cry of pain. Through his eyelashes, he peeked around the pillar to see the great snake swinging its head through the air, droplets of blood falling like tears to the ground. Fawkes was flying around the snake's head, dodging the basilisk's fangs. Harry watched in horrified fascination as the phoenix dived towards the snake's head. It let out a roar of pain, and it's head turned towards Harry. Before Harry could close his eyes, the basilisk's gaze landed on Harry's.

It's eyes were crying blood. Both yellow eyes had been popped. It was blind.

Harry felt a surge of affection for the phoenix. And then he was fighting again. Tom hissed at the snake to smell him out, and as it slashed its tail in frustration, something soft was swept into Harry's arms. The Sorting Hat. Harry tugged it on, thinking that it was his last, desperate chance, and begged it for help.

Nothing happened. Harry thought that his last hope had been squandered, but then, the hat twisted, squeezing as though an invisible someone was contracting it, and something heavy and hard thudded onto his head. Stars winked in front of his eyes, and he gripped the hat. Something hard and slim was in it. He pulled it off, to reveal a gleaming silver sword.

The basilisk was still lunging at the walls, blindly trying to catch him. Harry looked between the sword and the blind snake, and tossed the hat aside, his mind made up. He could either die, and Ginny would too, or he could kill the stupid snake and save his best friend.

Harry charged the basilisk, yelling to make sure the snake knew where he stood. As the snake turned towards him, and lunged, Harry threw his weight behind the sword, and drove it through the roof of the snake's mouth.

But even as the snake writhed and screamed in agony, hot pain spread over Harry's arm. He ignored it, anger and adrenaline holding him up despite his fear. He twisted the blade out, and the snake fell to the ground with a crashing thud.

When it fell, a single fang broke away from the snake's jaw. Harry looked down in horror and shock at the fang protruding from his arm.

Tom was staring at him in shock too, his gaze flitting from the snake to Harry, as Harry stumbled forward and fell to his knees by Ginny.

"Well," Tom said, evidently trying to remain calm, "this doesn't matter. You're dead anyway. You'll be dead in minutes."

Harry knew this. He grasped the fang, and pulled it out of his arm. It glistened with blood and poison. It fell from his numb fingers and clattered to the ground. The red at the edges of his vision turned to black spots. Tom's face showed both triumph and shock now.

"So ends Harry Potter," he said with a sneer. "Alone and afraid, at the hands of the very person he supposedly defeated."

Harry looked up at Tom, not afraid but sad. He wasn't afraid, but he was alone; even though his best friend lay beside him, he was alone. Ginny didn't want to be his friend anymore anyway. She wouldn't care if he died.

His eyes moved to Ginny, to the diary in her hands. He suddenly knew why she had been vanishing from his mind. She had been possessed. Tom had stolen her from him. It was all because of that diary.

He grabbed it, and laid it on the ground in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked as Harry picked up the fang again. Harry looked back up at Tom, the fang held over the diary. Tom's outline was still blurred. He had not claimed Ginny's life yet.

"I'm saving Ginny," he said, and stabbed the diary.

Ink poured from the pages like blood. Tom screamed, his face twisted in ugly pain and anger. Harry pushed the fang clear through the leather cover and the pages. Tom fell to his knees, clutching his head, screaming in pain. And then, he was gone.

Beside Harry, Ginny drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes opened, she sat up slowly, and her eyes locked on Harry's.

"Ginny..." Harry breathed, barely noticing Fawkes landing beside them. Ginny's eyes took in the bloody sword, the basilisk's body, the diary, the fang, and finally his bloody and numb arm.

Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. She stretched out a shaking hand and touched his arm, her cold fingers brushed over his wound.

"Ha- Harry?" her voice came out soft and scared. "Wha- what happened?"

"I killed the basilisk," he said. "But it got me."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. Her hand now bloody, she threw her arms around his neck and broke down in sobs. "It was me!" she cried. "I opened the Chamber, but I swear, I swear! I did- didn't mean to! T-Tom made me! Oh, Harry, I hated being alone! I c-couldn't hear you half the time and Tom s-said you would hate me be-because I was the one attacking everyone and he said I ha-had to ignore you and be mean- and I hated it! Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! And- and now you're hurt and it's my fault!"

Harry awkwardly patted her back, even though the numbness was spreading through him. "It wasn't your fault," he said, "it was Riddle's fault."

Ginny only cried harder. Her tears soaked the shoulder of his robes. Harry held her tightly to him, his uninjured arm trembling and the other lying limply by his side. Fawkes laid his head on Harry's arms, and Harry saw that Fawkes was crying too. The bird's tears mixed with Ginny's, running down his arm.

Harry let out a gasp. His arm suddenly started stinging. Ginny sat up at his gasp and looked down at his arm, tears still falling from her eyes. Harry watched one of her tears splash right into the center of the gash, but as he watched more tears fall, his arm stopped hurting. The stinging stopped, and the wound started to heal. Both he and Ginny watched in stunned silence as skin regrew over his arm, and the wound disappeared, leaving only a white scar.

Amazed, Harry lifted his arm and ran a finger over the scar.

"How?" Ginny breathed, her eyes wider than before.

"I have no idea," Harry murmured. Fawkes trilled, lifting both Harry and Ginny's spirits. Harry glanced between Fawkes and Ginny, still stunned.

"Wait a second," Harry said, "Fawkes is a phoenix. Dumbldedore said that phoenixes have all sorts of powers."

"Like healing tears," Ginny said, nodding.

Fawkes blinked up at them, then trilled again. Harry ran a hand down Fawkes' feathers. The bird cocked its head and pressed its head into Harry's hand.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Harry whispered.

Harry picked up the diary, the hat, and the sword, helped Ginny to her feet, and the two of them, with Fawkes, left the Chamber. They found Ron clearing a hole in the cave-in, Lockhart with no memory, and Fawkes carried them up the passage back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Fawkes then led them to McGonagall's office, where Dumbldedore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting.

McGonagall took Ginny, her parents, and Lockhart to the Hospital Wing, Ron went to owl Azkaban, and Dumbldedore kept Harry back to explain about the sword. Harry was stunned to realize that it was the Sword of Gryffindor, but Dumbldedore did not seem surprised. Dumbldedore then thanked Harry for what he had done, and explained why his arm had been healed when Fawkes cried on it; Harry and Ginny's guess had been right. They then were surprised by Lucius Malfoy, who was enraged that Dumbldedore was back, and Dobby. Dobby gave Harry the final clue about the diary, and Harry tricked Malfoy into freeing Dobby. Harry sat with Ginny at the celebratory feast that night, and they sat together on the train back home.

Aunt Petunia and Thea were waiting for Harry when they arrived on the platform, and Aunt Petunia startled everyone when she wrapped Harry in a tight hug. Harry hugged Ginny good-bye, and promised to visit her the next day. Even though she was still in his mind and he would see her the next morning, Harry felt a definite sense of sadness when Ginny's family climbed into a rented car and drove away.

It seemed that Harry's adventure in the Chamber of Secrets had reached his aunt and grandmother, because the instant the Weasley's were out of hearing range, Aunt Petunia started harping on Harry for risking his life and not letting an adult handle the situation. Harry was too surprised by this sudden show of care for him to tell her that he had tried to let an adult handle it, but the adult had ended up wiping his own memory in an attempt to get out of saving Ginny. Thea said he had been both brave and foolish, and then they took him to lunch before going home. Dudley was still at school apparently, so Harry had three extra days without his annoying cousin. He still got to see Ginny every day, and sometimes he spent the night at her house with Ron, but every time he left her, he felt sad, and the old worry that had come about while she was writing in Riddle's diary would return, even if in a vague form.

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

One blisteringly hot night in late June, while Harry was at his grandmother's house, Fate appeared by Thea Evans' chicken coup, with Chaos and Night, but this time with a cat by her side. The cat's tabby fur almost glowed in the dark, sleek shades of red and purple, an unnatural color for a cat. The cat was just as large as the wolf, and its eyes gleamed an angry red. Night was perched on the cat's back, and the crow was seeming to enjoy irritating the cat. Chaos was steadfastly ignoring both the cat and Night.

Fate leaned heavily on her staff. The moon high above them set her black cloak glimmering. Her eyes were heavy with all her knowledge and having to deal with her squabbling companions. Night was pecking at the cat's head, poking her with his talons and squawking in her ear.

Just then, the cat seemed to be fed up with Night. Her claws flashed out and Night let out a croaky squawk, launching from her back to Fate's staff.

The cat bared its teeth at Night. Night fluffed his feathers at her. Chaos growled at Night, the cat hissed, and Fate pressed the hand not holding her staff over her eyes wearily.

"Night," Fate said softly, "leave her alone."

"What?" Night crowed. "I'm only being friendly."

Chaos bared his teeth at Night. Night flapped his wings and crowed mockingly. The cat pawed the ground with gleaming claws.

"You are being childish," Fate snapped at the crow. "Apologize."

Night let out a bird's version of a huff.

The cat flicked her tail angrily. Chaos' hackles were raised. Fate glared at Night, eyebrows raised.

"Fine!" Night croaked. "I apologize."

The cat gave a final flick of her tail, and turned her back on the crow. Chaos nudged her flank with his shoulder, and the cat shot him an appreciative look.

"Oh, stop it!" Night squawked. "It's bad enough you two don't get off each other when we're normal, but it's freaky when you do it in animal form!"

"Let them be," Fate snapped. "Or I'll put you in a cage."

Night huffed again. Fate sighed. She conjured a chair with a wave of her hand, and lowered her ancient bones into it. Night fluttered to the top of her chair, Fate lay her staff across her knees, and the cat and wolf lay down at her feet. Fate rested her head on the back of her chair, and whispered spells beneath her breath. A millisecond later, her mind was connected to Harry and Ginny's.

She found herself in the middle of a nightmare. The fuzzy figure of Tom Riddle was bent over Ginny, laughing as he touched her and as Ginny begged him to leave her alone. Harry was standing a few feet away, shouting at Riddle, but Riddle was ignoring him. Harry was trying to get to Ginny, but something was holding him back. Ginny was crying. Fate pressed a hand to her mouth. No child should have to experience such sick things, but Fate knew that without this experience, Ginny would not have the strength to carry out her duty in the coming storm.

But to relive it in her dreams was too much. Fate waved a hand, and the nightmare faded. The Chamber was gone, and the two children were in the oasis Fate had first spoken to them in.

Harry had still been fighting against whatever had been holding him away from Ginny when Fate relieved them of their nightmare, and he fell forward when there was suddenly nothing holding him back. He staggered forward, and caught himself before he fell flat on his face. Ginny stopped crying, and looked around. Harry grabbed her hands and pulled the trembling girl to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her, and looked around as well.

"Who's there?" Harry called. Fate made sure that she was as invisible and non-present as she could be without actually leaving. She needed to watch them.

But, as they had been before, her efforts were in vain. Harry spotted her at once, and raised a hand.

A group of animals burst from the forest behind her, and darted around her, growling and snarling. Fate was stunned to see lions, griffins, manticores, hippogriffs, and even a small dragon; all circling her.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded. Fate was shell-shocked, but she retained her power of speech.

"I came to observe," she said. "As I have done in the past."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I remember you," he said. "You visited us two years ago."

"And, like then, I did not intend to speak to you."

"Why did you want to watch us?" Ginny asked, her voice soft and shaky, but her eyes flashed with indignation.

"I cannot say."

"Can't or won't?"

"Will not," Fate said. "I apologize, but you must discover it on your own."

Harry scowled. "Why?"

"I cannot say."

Both of them groaned. "Can't you tell us anything?"

Fate paused, thinking. "You are stronger than we thought," she said. "And, you should know that your bond is something that has not happened in one thousand years. Tell your Professor Dumbldedore that he should look in his hidden room to learn more."

"What hidden room?" Harry asked.

"What bond?" Ginny said.

Fate bowed herself out. Next time, she would have to take even greater precautions to avoid being noticed.

"Well?" Night crowed in her ear. Fate winced. The cat at her feet batted a paw at the crow, making him fly out of her reach.

"You were incorrect, as always, Night," Fate said.

"Then I was right," said the cat in a low, purring voice.

"Yes, you were," Fate sighed. Night fluffed his tail feathers at them. Fate glared up at the crow, and flicked a finger at him. With a squawk, Night vanished.

"Where did you send him?" said Chaos. His voice was deep, rhythmic, enchanting.

"Back," Fate replied simply. "We will join him soon."

"Why not now?" the cat asked.

Fate lay her head back on the chair. "I want silence for a moment," she said. The cat's eyes gleamed with mirth, though still an angry mirth. Chaos settled his head on his paws, and stared up at the sky.

There was one thing she could have mentioned to Harry and Ginny, and Fate did not know why she had kept it from them. When Harry's arm had been pierced with the poisonous fang, he had been doomed to die. But he had not. Dumbldedore and the pair of youths had thought it had been Fawkes' tears that had saved him, but that wasn't entirely true.

Phoenix tears alone are not enough to cure basilisk venom. But when combined with the magic of a powerful bond, they can heal anything. Fawkes had not been the only one crying.

Ginny's tears had healed Harry, not Fawkes. Fate just wished she knew how.


End file.
